Redemption
by PryzmKess
Summary: Loki is imprisoned on Earth and one of the Avengers is not a good guy. Set after Winter Soldier and contains spoilers for that movie, as well as for Agents of SHIELD. This started as a test to see if I could bring these three together and I think it works. Review if you agree. - M for violence, dark themes, and M/M/F relationship.
1. Chapter 1

The whispers of the air-conditioning unit over his head were a familiar melody. The spiders, which had skittered away when he had first established himself in the rafters, crept back, assessing the damage he'd done to their webs and traps. Only a few remained evicted; they stopped when their sensitive feelers tasted the repellent that he'd slathered on his skin six hours ago. It made bugs think he was a bigger creepy-crawly, which would keep them away. The rats wouldn't come near until he disappeared and his scent had faded.

This was just another long, typical surveillance gig for Clint "Hawkeye" Barton, archer for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers.

Three men in black uniforms prowled the open area below him. A single guard dog walked obediently next to one, his or her nose working. It was their bad luck that Barton now smelled more like a hungry scorpion than a human. The objective was sitting in a cell in the middle of the room, a lean, hungry-looking man with a smile that could terrify or charm in turn.

A slight hum disturbed his veil of silence, originating from his thigh. It was a single second of vibration, muffled by cloth and mostly absorbed by his skin. Barton focused on the dog as the canine froze. The animal lifted his or her head as the long ears swiveled but didn't seem to pinpoint the noise. "C'mon, Gracie," her handler said in a bored voice, twitching the leash to get her in motion again.

Barton mentally chided the man for not giving Gracie enough credit as he crept his hand down to his pocket. In slow movements that didn't produce any noise, the archer pulled his phone out of his pants and slid it into the lapel of his jacket. With the phone's light blocked from the men below, he checked the text message.

It was two words. Barton read them three times. He checked the number: it was from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s HQ. It was real.

_Damn._ He felt a gnawing sense of regret but mostly anticipation. _I thought I had more time._ He'd hoped to finish what he started with Natasha, to bring her in.

That was not to be.

A quick dance of his fingers on his bow signaled a change to different arrowheads. Hawkeye hooked his knees around the rafters and let his upper body drop until he hung like the world's most lethal bat. He sighted on all the targets, drew and began. His string snapped three times and hesitated on the fourth. It wasn't because he wasn't sure of his shot. It was because Gracie wasn't responsible for being here.

The dog yelped and bounced away from her handler as the man hit the ground, dead. The dog sniffed closely, whining. Her nose played over the shaft protruding from his back, confused by the scents on it. After a moment, Gracie pawed her human but he didn't move.

Clint watched her with sympathy. Hooking a line to the rafters, he slid down the thin rope to the floor. Gracie backed away nervously, stopping when she caught the familiar smell of man under the bug-scent. "It's okay, girl," he said softly before turning to the cage.

The man inside watched him with boredom. For a man in a cell, he seemed to have all the time in the world. Barton knelt next to one of the downed men and dug an access card out of his belt. The archer moved to the cell and opened the door. "Let's go," he said to the former prisoner.

"It's time, then?" the brunette man asked in a Scottish accent.

"Yep." Barton turned toward the front door. He glanced at Gracie to find her lying by her dead master, her head resting on his back. Was that sadness in her eyes? He worried about her for a second before realizing that someone would come along and find her. She'd be taken in and given a home. "Let's get out of here before someone comes."

"Hey, Hawkeye." The man's call drew Barton's attention back to him. "Hail H.Y.D.R.A."

Barton's lips curled in amusement. "Hail H.Y.D.R.A."

Natasha Romanov stood with arms folded stiffly, her body wound so tightly it seemed she might break. She stared over the computers, her green eyes impatiently scanning the workstations. She didn't seem to realize she was toying with the silver necklace at her throat, her fingers running over the tiny arrow over and over. She'd been like that for three days.

Steve put his hands on his hips, considering what to do to help her. The problem was that there was little he could do or say. It had been a week since he'd gotten out of the hospital and five days since Stark had arrived at the HUB with a fleet of moving trucks and an army of workmen. He'd also grabbed the remaining agents, hiring them on the spot and secreting them away to his tower, where he'd established a headquarters of sorts. No one had been around to protest Stark's confiscation of the equipment. Why bother? Natasha had already released all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets to the world.

"Cap." Tony Stark stopped next to him, gazing out over the computers of the HUB.

"Stark." Steve peered at the brilliant man. "You still haven't answered my question - what is your plan for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"You mean the secret organization formerly known as S.H.I.E.L.D.? I think at best, they're down to HD now." Tony smirked at his own wit. "As in Homeland Division. Nothing else applies anymore. Of course, the 'Logistics' never really applied-"

"Not now, Stark." Steve resisted the urge to be sharper with the man. Retorting to Stark's biting sarcasm usually only fed it. "Why did you grab S.H.I.E.L.D.'s devices?"

As before, Stark avoided answering. "How's Natasha holding up?" Stark's voice had softened a touch; when Steve glanced at him, he saw a bit of concern in his eyes - just a bit.

"Not well. She's waiting. Like we all are." Captain America shifted slightly, hating the reminder of his own helplessness in this situation. "She needs closure. A place to rescue him from. A body to bury."

Tony was quiet a long moment, his lips pressing together. "There's a third option."

Steve glanced at him again but this time, there was heat in his eyes. "It's not an option."

"Then why hasn't he called in?" Stark began to pace, roaming back and forth behind the Captain's wide shoulders. "Why don't we have a ransom demand?"

"He could be somewhere he can't reach us." Steve didn't think of himself as a pessimist at even the worst times. _I can't conceive of the thought that Barton… _His mind refused to finish the sentence as he grimly watched Natasha hold her terse vigil. "Held prisoner. It doesn't mean that…"

Tony Stark stopped next to him, facing Steve's profile. The first Avenger didn't look at him but as the silence drew on, he finally turned to meet his eyes. Tony gazed at him with pity. "You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" Steve spat the words at him. "You've already decided that Clint, our _friend_-"

"I haven't decided anything. I'm just willing to concede the possibility." Tony moved like he was reaching for Steve's shoulder, only to stop and push his sunglasses up on his head. "I don't like it."

"Clint's not H.Y.D.R.A." Natasha twisted to face them, her face equal parts angry and hurt. "I'd know." She turned her back on the two men. Now Tony watched her with pity and concern.

"Captain?" The agent's voice broke into the awkward silence and both men looked at the freckle-faced young man who stared with equal parts adoration and awe. "There's a guy with a big hammer asking to see you."


	2. Chapter 2

"You could have mentioned the other guy." Tony glared balefully the dark shadow standing just behind Thor. He was glad he'd called Banner on his way down; few mortals scared the insane Loki like the man who housed the Hulk.

The young agent flushed bright red and shuffled away from Iron Man, as if distance could remove the error of not mentioning Loki.

"What's going on, Thor?" Steve got to the point, as he always did. It was one of the things that Tony liked about the man. The few things: the man out of time annoyed Tony far more than he amused him.

"My father wishes to establish a wardship." Thor said the words with reluctance in his gravelly voice.

"A what?" Tony asked, even as the terrible, horrible answer occurred to him.

For once, Steve got it first. _Hell_, Tony thought, _they probably still practiced fosterage when he was in diapers._ "Loki's not a child," the first Avenger said. Behind Tony, Banner laughed dryly, mumbling something about terrible ideas.

"Not physically." Natasha's comment was scathing but her voice lacked venom. The godling still sneered at her and started to reply.

"Loki." Thor's reprimand closed Loki's mouth, though it didn't erase the haughty curve to his lips. The blonde godling sighed through his nose and looked at his team. _Oh, I am not gonna like this_, Tony thought, taking in the pinched expression on his otherworldly teammate's face. "My father Odin would like to offer a deal with the Avengers."

"What kind of deal?" Steve looked curious but not ready to commit.

Thor didn't beat around the bush. "You will take Loki, my brother. You will watch him, guard him, and teach him humility."

Tony's lips twisted sharply. "Yeah, not seeing a benefit to us. None of those things are on my list of things to do to Loki."

"My father has authorized the release of Asgardian technology in exchange." Thor was somber as he looked at Tony. "He would give it to you, in exchange for your accepting the fosterage."

Tony tensed. Asgardian tech had been on his Christmas list for a while; he'd thought he'd jump at any chance to tear some apart. _Leave it to Loki's father to figure out a way to make me not want it._ "To me? Why?"

Thor smiled slightly, the corner of his lip turning up despite his serious demeanour. "Because of how much Loki complained about you upon his imprisonment on Asgard. Your name was a curse on my brother's lips."

"I merit mention in the realms beyond?" Tony smirked as he pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be." This time, Loki spoke before his brother could shush him. He stared sulkily at them all, his green eyes narrowed and petulant.

"There's still the little matter of _Phil_ between us." Tony took a step forward as if his rising anger propelled him forward.

"And what you did to New York." Bruce Banner joined Tony's glare.

"And what you did to Clint." Natasha remained where she was, staring coldly at the alien godling.

"Come now. That wasn't so bad." Loki smiled with false benevolence. "I did that for his own good."

Three strides put her in his personal space. Steve caught her just before her fist caught his face. "Aww," Tony murmured, disappointed that he didn't get to see her punch out the godling. "Why'd you stop her?"

The geriatric Boy Scout just gave him an annoyed glance. "We can talk about this, together." Steve pointed a thick finger at Loki. "Not you. You aren't a part of this discussion."

The godling smirked coldly in his arrogant way but didn't argue. Tony frowned a little, wondering why Loki was being more cooperative than normal. "I really don't see why we should do this, Thor."

"For the sake of Asgard." The blond man was somber as he said, "The Svartalfar, the Dark Elves, did much damage to the city. In their wake, the Chitauri have become more aggressive, using Jotun, Rock Trolls and other old enemies of my people to assault our homeland. They have demanded we hand my brother over to him. Loki's actions have further weakened the realm and should he say there, he will die. If you do not take him, my father will execute him."

"His own father?" Steve's eyes widened in surprise before shooting over to rest on Loki. Tony watched the black-haired criminal for a reaction. Loki merely smirked but the brilliant inventor could see that his emotions were too smooth, too fake. The All-Father's decision had cut his adopted son to the bone.

"So who is pushing this deal? You or Daddy?" Tony asked, pushing a little harder on that pain. He wanted to see Loki break and bleed, even if only emotionally.

"Father agreed to it," Thor says evenly.

That didn't answer the question but Tony was satisfied. This was Thor's idea and the All-Father had to be coaxed into it. "I want to know what we'd get for him."

"We are _not_ seriously considering this offer," Natasha spat angrily.

"We are not, because it is my offer." Tony paused to let that sink into the team. He felt rather than saw Natasha's glare at the back of his head. Part of him wished she wasn't standing behind him but moving would telegraph his discomfort. Besides, he was pretty sure she wouldn't shoot him in the back.

Pretty sure.

"My father has a list of things he'd be willing to gift to you." Thor extended a piece of paper to him.

"Really? Paper? You guys have science-magic and you're handing me paper?" Tony said, scowling as he took it from Thor. He _hated_ being handed things.

"The All-Father no doubt didn't believe you could handle being shown a list on a more advanced medium," Loki sneered. It was hard to tell if he was taking a jab at Odin or the Avengers. Tony opted to believe it was both.

He scanned the list. It wasn't long with maybe fifteen things on it. Their names were archaic and unhelpful. "What is all this stuff?" he asked, falling into negotiator mode.

Loki gracefully hopped forward and plucked it from his fingers. Thor snatched the list away but not before the dark-haired sibling had skimmed it. "Ancient Asgardian tech," Loki said, dismissively. "I'm sure it would be far beyond your knowledge but it is centuries old. It is also _hardly_ a suitable ward-price for someone of my standing."

"Right now, you stand beneath my boot." Tony stared the weaselly little monster in the face. "You're going to say in line or I'll sick Banner on you. I understand that the Hulk doesn't often get the chance to practice his backswing like that." Bruce smiled like he found that idea appealing. Tony turned to Thor. "Tell Odin I'll accept _if_ we get some of the newer stuff too. It doesn't have to be weapons if he'd afraid of us puny mortals. I'll be happy to accept medical equipment. Maybe he'll be willing to let us play with something other than the Asgardian equivalent of string and tin cans if it's _just_ to save human lives."

"You trust Loki's lies?" Natasha's words were calm and even cool but Tony knew her better than that.

The owner of Stark Industries turned to her. The set of her jaw, the glare: she wasn't mad, she was _furious_. Tony didn't blame her but she wasn't thinking. She saw the short term right now, which was okay because he was here to take the long view. "I trust that he wants to poke his dad in the eye enough to point out where Odin's trying to shortchange us. I also trust that his pride won't allow that to pass without comment. But most importantly, I trust that Thor _didn't_ disagree with him." His stance stated, Tony turned back to the brothers.

Loki grimaced while trying to cover it with an arrogant smirk. Thor looked relieved, actually smiling at Tony, revealing that the idiot did love his brother. Behind them all, Black Widow spun on her heel and stalked away, her fury almost palatable.

"I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you, man of iron," Loki said with a smirk.

Tony was already regretting his decision. He didn't like it either but he needed the Asgardian technology to give him the edge in the future. The fate of everything he loved - humans, his planet, Pepper - hinged on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha held herself stiffly as she watched the monitors. Everyone knew to look for her down here now. They didn't bother calling her - they just walked down to the NewHUB. That was the name some of the former S.H.I.E.L.D. employees called the room Stark had given them. Natasha wished they'd pick a different name altogether. She knew the value in renaming something, in giving it a figurative facelift.

Not for the first time, the former agent wondered what Stark's plans were. He was acting too methodically to not have one. Natasha wanted to know what it was but the billionaire was being annoyingly tight-lipped.

_A Glasgow Smile would loosen up those lips_. Despite the gruesome imagery of extending Stark's smile with a knife, Natasha didn't really feel like doing it. Yes, he'd taken that _suka_ into the tower, locking him into a cell he'd built in the basement. _Because putting Loki in a cell built to hold the Hulk worked __**so**__ well last time._

She wasn't going to visit him this time.

"_Is this love, Agent Romanov?"_

"_Love is for children. I owe him a debt."_

_A sneering, knowing smile, a smoothly taken seat. A predator waiting, his green eyes glittering. "Tell me."_

"Where are you, Clint?" She wasn't aware that she'd spoken aloud until she caught the empathetic glance from the technician to her left. Natasha seared the woman with an undeserved glare and the tech hastily turned her attention to her screens again.

_Pull it together, Romanov._

Natasha took a deep breath to soothe her nerves. It was hard; she was on edge and strung out. If Clint had been here, he would have been bringing her coffee or pushing her to take a nap. Her chest hollowed out at the thought.

A face flashed on the screen and Natasha was in motion before she thought about moving, slipping through the computer stations to lean over the tech's shoulder. The young man swallowed nervously but didn't complain as she grabbed his mouse and wound the video back. It was only seconds long, of Clint walking out of a door before turning and shooting out the camera.

"Where was that?" Natasha asked, her voice low and intense.

The technician opened his mouth then clicked his teeth shut as he caught sight of something on the other side of her. Natasha turned to see Stark standing at the end of the row of computer. "A moment of your time, Agent Romanov?"

Her stomach knotted into a tighter ball. He'd used her title and last name, and there was no banter or joking in his gaze. It was bad, whatever 'it' was. Natasha nodded sharply and walked toward him, aware of the technician sagging with relief behind her. "Did you find him?" she asked in a whisper when she joined Stark.

"Yes." His hands, strong from years of DIY battlesuits and weapons, curled around her arm and guided her into his office. It was a short walk up the stairs and into the room, where glass walls watched over the NewHUB. No one could get away with playing Galacta here.

Stark turned to her and with no preamble said, "I'm sorry." He held out a tablet, a video already loaded on it. Natasha's hands shook as she took the device and numbly hit the triangle to start the playback.

She knew where it was immediately. She'd been to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s holding cells in Cambodia more than once, dropping prisoners off on their way to the Fridge or other classified holes where they hid the most dangerous criminals. The place had no real name, only the designation Holding 04. Natasha had wondered more than once if there were three more holdings somewhere in the world or if that was just to throw people off. Knowing S.H.I.E.L.D., it could be either way.

The three guards walking around the cell fell within seconds of one another and Natasha locked away the rising grief. She stilled the tremble in her lips and swallowed the angry curses. _Not Clint. Please, no, not Clint._

He dropped into the room and popped open the cell. Natasha recognized the occupant as Jerome McCulloch, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most recent captures.

One of Clint's most recent missions.

When he walked out of the room, she stopped the video. "I guess you were right, Stark." Her voice didn't shake; her training made it almost effortless to close off her pain and emotions.

"I didn't want to be," he promised her, not that it mattered. His eyes studied her with concern. "If you need to talk-"

"You'd be the last person I'd talk to." There was no harshness to her words, only cold truth.

"I was going to say that you should talk to JARVIS." Stark's lips quirked upward, a silent admission that he was shit when it came to consolation. "He's surprisingly therapeutic, doesn't judge-"

"I'm fine." The chain around her neck felt like a lead weight, not a cherished memento. She handed him back his tablet, her motions controlled. "How did we get that?" She didn't think it was a fake. That was false hope and she didn't indulge in that anymore.

"It came off a S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite, stored via automatic upload." Stark took the tablet, his expression still worried. It was almost touching. "The image you saw on the main floor was from the same place."

"I'd like to go check Holding 04 out." Natasha forced a smile as she gazed up at him. "Got a plane I can borrow?"

Stark put the tablet on the desk behind him. "Yes. I even have a pilot for you."

Something about the way he said it raised her eyebrow. "Is he or she a _good_ pilot?"

"He's logged a few hours in the air," Stark answered evasively.

Natasha stifled a sigh. "It's you, isn't it?"

"I can fly. Rather, my pilot can fly my private jet to Cambodia, and once there, we can get you the rest of the way."

Natasha's other eyebrow joined the first. "We?"

"The team's going." Stark held up a finger when she attempted to protest. "We're a team. If Clint's compromised, we'll take care of him and bring him home."

She wanted, so badly, for it to be Loki all over again, for someone to have unmade him so she could remake him. "And if he's H.Y.D.R.A.?"

Tony's voice changed and grew hard. "We'll bring him home." _To a cell_, he didn't add. "Be ready in an hour."

The jungles of Cambodia still smelled hot and wet, like breathing through a soaked towel in a too-hot shower. The helicopter's rotors slowly wound down behind them but Natasha could still hear the distinct sound of Iron Man's thrusters as he took a lap around the building. It was, to all appearances, a simple one-story building meant to be someone's home. Holding 04 was underneath the house, buried in the ground.

"No surprise. They know we're coming," the captain noted, looking like a hero in his suit. Natasha still looked like a dangerous woman, ready for anything, comfortable with everything. Bruce and Thor had remained at the tower; Stark had deemed it unwise to leave Loki alone just yet, even if he was in a cell.

"He's not here anyway." She'd known that from the moment they touched down. One of the jeeps was gone, while the others had their hoods propped open and their tires flattened. "Clint and McCulloch are long gone."

Captain America nodded in agreement. A soft sound came from the open doorway and they tensed as a shadow moved. Natasha had her guns out when the dog stepped into the light. A S.H.I.E.L.D. badge hung from her collar and she moved toward them slowly. "C'mon here, honey," Steve coaxed, dropping to one knee and holding out his hand. The German Shepherd inched forward, her nose twitching. "I think you've been out here a while. Look, her coat is matted and I think she's hungry."

Natasha smirked at the man and his new friend. Trust Steve to befriend an innocent with ease. "There's food in the cockpit. Stark and I can check out the building."

Captain America looked up at her, his hands buried in the dog's ruff. "Are you sure, I can come with you-"

"I think that the dog was the only agent left alive." Natasha swallowed. _Clint killed them all._ That was the new reality, and she should get used to it. "We can handle an empty prison."

Iron Man joined her at the door. "I'll go first. Normally, I'm more gallant than that but I can take an arrow better than you."

_Clint wouldn't hurt me._ Her fingers brushed over her necklace again. Natasha knew as well as the next realistic woman that 'not me, never me' was the theme song of the abused-to-be. She didn't know Clint, not really. He'd proven that. He could very well put an arrow in her without second thought.

They searched the building without incident. Holding 04 was shallow, with stairs instead of an elevator and only three levels. The cameras had been taken out all along the route - why? Why had he bothered to blind a dead building?

Natasha stopped on the fourth landing when she saw the body with an arrow sticking out of it. _Oh, Clint. Why?_ She knew she wouldn't ever answer that, not to her satisfaction. Nothing could ever explain Clint going rogue to her.

They were in the holding room before Natasha realized that he'd left the arrows behind. Staring down at the three S.H.I.E.L.D. guards, their lives extinguished because they were doing their jobs, Natasha felt horribly guilty. She should have noticed the arrows immediately instead of getting all the way down here. He _always_ collected the arrows to salvage arrowheads and shafts.

So why hadn't he this time?

"What are you doing?" Stark asked sharply when she grasped the shaft of the arrow.

Natasha wrenched the weapon loose. "I'm investigating." Turning the arrow, she saw an inscription on the flat triangle of the head.

"What is that?" Stark asked.

"A message," Natasha said grimly as she started to collect all the arrows.


	4. Chapter 4

"'Remember Budapest.' What does _that_ mean?" Tony asked, staring at the arrowheads she'd arranged on the table. The letters etched into the flats of the heads now made words.

"It was a mission we did together." The Black Widow had spoken little on the trip back to the tower.

"Mission?" Steve asked, his voice distracted by the dog stretched out at his feet. No one had argued against bringing Grace back; no one had really cared. Steve rubbed a foot against her belly and she rumbled with pleasure, rolling onto her side.

"What happened on that mission?" Stark pressed.

Natasha looked away, while Steve watched her closely. He was worried about her. She sealed away all her feelings and didn't deal with them. He'd seen guys do that after combat and it never ended well for them. "Budapest was a mess." Her voice was distant and soft, her eyes unfocused and looking into the past. "Clint was there to find an operative and terminate her. He ran into the local mob boss, who had the operative as his girlfriend. She was there to break up his ring and allow another agent to move in and take over the top spot in the criminal ring."

Natasha fell silent. "What were you doing?" Thor asked, his voice curious.

_She was the operative._ Steve stopped moving his foot and Grace lifted her head. He held out a hand to her and the dog rose to slip her nose under his fingers. He kinda wanted to keep her but with the search for Bucky, he wasn't sure he'd be around enough to take care of her. He'd find her a good home, the best.

"I was the operative. Over a year, I had divided the gang into two factions, those following the boss and those following me. The plan was to bring in a fellow Russian operative and give him control of the gang, stage my death and move on to the next assignment." Natasha didn't look at any of them as she said, "I was eighteen."

Steve frowned, his brow furrowing at her words. He didn't like this already. He glanced at Banner and saw the smart man had done the same math that Steve had done: she'd started that mission at the tender age of seventeen - or earlier. She had to infiltrate before she could divide.

"My manipulations were finally coming to a head. All I had to do was smile at the right man, and be sure that the boss's right-hand man saw me do it. When I did, all war broke out in the room." Natasha's voice was level as she spoke, almost monotone. Steve had seen her like that when Fury had 'died', though she'd displayed more emotion on her face then. Of course, she'd had more than a week to worry and grieve - and to hide those emotions away.

He did know that this death just as traumatic as Fury's had been, even if Clint was alive. Worse, it was the death of her feelings about a friend and sometimes that was harder to bear than death itself.

Even as he worried silently, Natasha continued. "Clint was supposed to kill me and stabilize the situation. He made another call." Her voice caught ever-so-slightly on those words. "We fought our way out together, after he told me he wasn't going to kill me." There was more to that story; Steve could hear it in her words. He wondered if she'd ever trust him enough fill in the blanks.

He wondered if she'd ever be able to trust anyone like that again.

"The question is," Bruce said softly from the end of the table, "what does he want you to remember? That he spared your life?"

Natasha shook her head. "I've never forgotten that. No, it's something else. Something about Budapest itself..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "It _could _be the safehouse."

Steve stepped in, hoping he was asking the right question. "What was special about it?"

"Nothing. It was…" Her voice trailed off oddly and Steve had the sudden feeling that he was poking at an uncomfortable wound. "A typical house. Coulson met us there and Clint talked him into recruiting me for SHIELD." Her green eyes were still distant and the flat way she spoke gave Steve chills.

"Did anything else happen in Budapest?" Stark leaned forward.

A spark of life came back into her green eyes. "Yes. Something did."

This time, it was just her and Steve. It hadn't made Stark happy but Steve had backed her opinion that Clint hadn't set a trap. What Natasha didn't tell him was that she _wasn't_ sure he wouldn't be waiting for her. The simple fact is that if it was, she wanted to be caught.

She _needed_ to talk with him, and she knew she could escape him. Of the two of them, she was always the more resourceful when stripped down to nothing.

The bridge was just as she remembered it. Budapest's Chain Bridge stretched across the Danube, its lights making it glow even in the junction between the brightness of Buda and Pest. Natasha walked out onto the bridge, slipping past couples holding hands. Seeing the happy pairs brought back bad memories of her last time in the city.

"What are we doing?" Steve caught up with her but didn't try to take her hand-

"_Tasha, wait!" A warm hand slipping into her cold one, pulling her to a stop. Another warm hand brushing away her tears._

-instead falling into step beside her.

"If he's leaving me a message, it'll be here." Reaching the first pillar, Natasha gripped the railing and hopped over the edge. She heard Steve yelp her name but by then, she was already climbing down under the edge of the structure, reaching up into the junction between metal and stone. The first crevice her fingers explored was empty but in the second, she felt a plastic tube.

She pulled it out, hoping it wasn't random trash. Instead, a red arrow on the black background told her that she'd found the clue. Her fingers tightened around the plastic. This was proof that Clint still reached out to her, too.

The arrowhead had a red HYDRA symbol imposed over it but she did her best to ignore that for now.

Steve's features relaxed as she pulled herself over the edge. He took the tube when she thrust it at him, slipping it into his coat before offering her a hand up. She allowed him to help her climb over and then they hurried away before the bystanders could call the police.

"A bit of warning next time?" Steve asked, his tone irritated.

"I thought you could keep up." The moment she spoke, she realized that she'd fallen into the same light banter she'd adopted with him while hunting the Winter Soldier - and the same banter she used with Clint and Phil on _their_ missions.

They headed to the airport and right back onto Stark's plane. As the pilot and crew tended to things silently in the background, Natasha held out her hand for the tube. Steve hesitated before passing it to her.

She pulled off the top and fished out the paper inside. Holding it flat, she started to read:

_Natasha,_

_I'm sorry for many things in my past. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what was really going on with me. I couldn't, not until I knew whether you'd accept it. I guess I did too good a job convincing you to join the good guys, and not enough of one explaining what the greater good means. I had hopes you'd understand and join us anyway but after uploading all our secrets I don't think you're suitable for membership._

_I'm sorry I couldn't get you to join us. I'm going to miss you, Natasha. Please stay away from me. I don't want to have to kill you._

_Clint._

_P.S.: Not all of SHIELD's secrets were revealed in the upload._

The second piece of paper was a color printout of a photo. In it, Phil Coulson was climbing out of a van, laughing at something Melinda May was saying. Natasha looked to the bottom of the page, where the time/date stamp was noted like a small accusation.

"That's from a few months ago." Steve sounded shocked but not angry.

That's okay. Natasha was angry enough for both of them. "Phil's alive."

She was going to _kill_ him when she found him.


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha stopped in the doorway to the holding cell, blinking at the sight of Loki in his cell. It wasn't the sight of the godling, but of his cell. It reminded her of the cage Fury had built for the Hulk but its interior was furnished with a few comforts. A bed contained a couple of pillows and was layered with soft, thick blankets, while the fainting couch was upholstered and comfortable. A small coffee table was stacked with various books. The toilet hid behind a short partition but the shower's walls were mostly clear glass. The prisoner was slouched on a chair, studying the objects on the table in front of him.

Loki's eyes flicked up to her, their green depths bored. When he saw it was her, the boredom faded and he smiled eagerly at her. It wasn't a happy eagerness.

Natasha didn't smile back. She looked at Stark, an auburn eyebrow raised. "You gave him Legos?"

"It seemed cruel to not give him something to do." Stark shrugged as he added, "He kept eating the play-doh."

"This isn't a joke, Stark." Natasha spat the words angrily. She had little patience for the billionaire at the best of times and this was not the best of times. _I wish Steve were here. Then he could deal with Stark._ The First Avenger was gone with Sam, chasing down a lead on Bucky Barnes down in Mexico.

"No, it isn't. The Asgardian tech… it skips a few steps from where we are. So I need him." Stark looked beseechingly at her. "I just need you to get in there and work your magic on him. Convince him to help us."

Natasha shook her head. "You can't trust him."

"I am aware. I still need him." Stark gestured vaguely with his hands, his motions filling a wider space than he actually occupied. "Thor tries to help but even he admits that Loki got the brains in the family."

"He's adopted." Natasha reminded him.

"I really just need him compliant enough to pick his brains. I have no desire to let him, you know, touch anything or have access to any technology more complex than a paperclip." Tony gave her his best pleading look. "You're the only one here smarter than him who is also underestimated by him."

"I doubt I can fool him again." The Black Widow looked at her future quarry again. Loki had his eyes locked on her, watching her intently.

"Then don't. I just need you to manipulate him." Stark paused a second and added, "You think you can handle that?"

"Yes." Natasha turned from Stark and walked up to the cage. Loki rose from his chair, leaving the partially completed castle behind. Natasha noted that he was building the complex structure without directions. She turned on the intercom and said, "Loki, Stark needs you to explain how Asgardian technology works. Would you be willing to do that?" She could _feel _Stark's rising anger behind her.

"Why should I help my gaolers?" he asked in that smooth voice.

"Because otherwise Stark's going to leave you down here with nothing to do but play with children's toys and…" She glanced at his stack of books. "read Harlequin Romance novels." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I hear that _Rumors that Ruined a Lady_ is quite good."

"It's one of Pepper's favorites," Stark added from behind her.

"Your choices are to stay and be bored or help the people who were paid to _save your life_." Natasha stared at him pointedly. "That might be mildly entertaining for you."

Loki's cynical expression faded at her words. "Why," he almost whispered, "are you the only one who makes me falter?"

Natasha twisted her lips into a seductive smile. "It's because I'm smarter than you."

His green eyes blinked in surprise before he sneered at her again. "That is impossible."

Natasha snorted softly at his predictable answer. "Believe what you will. What's your answer, yes or no?"

Loki studied her expression for a long moment, pondering his reply. Natasha gave him the time to think though his answer. "Yes," he said finally, "but I'll only explain them to you." He gave her a thin, mocking smile. "Since you are smarter than Stark."

Of course Stark couldn't let that go unanswered. "I believe that has yet to be established."

The last thing Natasha wanted to do was spend a lot of time alone with this being. "It'd be faster to explain them to Stark-"

"I don't care. I don't like him." Loki glared briefly at the man over her shoulder. When he turned his gaze back to her, he leered, "At least you are pleasing to the eyes."

_Gross._ Her expression didn't betray her thoughts as she turned to look at Stark; his shrug told her it was her choice. He didn't care since he had the room bugged and no doubt would insist on feeding her questions through an earpiece. She didn't want to do it but this mission was no different than any others she hadn't wanted to do. It would also give her something to do other than mindlessly hunt for Clint and Phil. "Fine. You get four hours a day."

He smiled like he had won a victory - perhaps to him, he had. "Shall we begin?"

"-and then the quantum field collapses so that the ostrium component-"

"No, no, no." Loki had his arm resting over his eyes as he sprawled across his fainting couch. He'd assumed that pose many times in the last four days. "Not ostrium."

Natasha rotated her head, feeling every second of today's three hours, twelve minutes spent with her insufferable tutor. "You said ostrium earlier."

"He said olustrium." Stark's voice filled her right ear, souring her mood further.

"No, I said _olustrium_." Loki dragged his arm off of his face, his face twisted with disgust. "Why did I think you were the smartest of them again?"

"It _couldn't _be that you're a horrible teacher." Natasha had attempted to cut back on the sarcasm around Loki but that resolution had flown out the window during their first session. She rubbed her neck, craning it at the same time. Her head was _pounding_.

Loki sat up, tilting his head to the side. "Are you in pain? You act like you are."

"Yes I am hurting. You are a massive headache." Natasha's words were sharp and cutting, and she shut her eyes to block out the overhead lights.

Loki was quiet for a long moment. "I haven't taught anyone before."

His voice had softened and Natasha looked up at him. She matched his tone as she replied, "It does show. Can I make a suggestion?" She wasn't sure he'd be open to one but it didn't hurt to ask. He nodded, strangely agreeable. Natasha wondered how long that would last. "Let's work for twenty minutes on Asgardian tech and then I'll spend the next five minutes teaching you about Earth."

His face screwed up in confusion. "Why would I want that?"

_That is a good question and I hope you don't find out why I think you should learn about us. _Natasha smiled. "Shouldn't you know about the people you wanted to rule?"

Loki hesitated. Natasha noted his silence with interest. "Doesn't seem to have a good answer to that, does he?" Stark noted in her ear.

"I didn't think it was important," Loki admitted. "Getting the throne was the goal."

"It is important. If you'd know how we humans are, then you'd know that humans won't be ruled by an invader." Natasha smiled. "We take the invasion of our world rather personally."

Arrogance blossomed on his face. "Humans squabble and fight like animals. You couldn't have stood up to the might of the Chautari."

"Oh, we fight amongst ourselves, just like you and Thor fight." Natasha leaned forward to emphasize her point. "But when someone else picks on us, we close ranks and fight back." She rose from her seat.

"Wait, we still have thirty minutes." Loki looked vaguely panicked though he hid the expression quickly.

_Interesting._ One of the first lessons of the Red Room was that everyone was vulnerable to being manipulated. _Everyone_. Her instructors had proven it by manipulating everyone in the group. All humans had triggers, gaping holes in their psyches that could be used against them. Asgardians had them, too.

She knew from Thor that Loki had Daddy Issues. Natasha loved those. They were the most fun. Ironically, she didn't want to use it against him as much as use it to help him see the truth. To help Earth lose one more enemy.

"I do have a headache." She let her voice sound torn, wondering if he were lonely.

"You can take the thirty minutes left to lecture me on humanity." Loki smirked at her, his mask in place.

"Okay." Natasha sat down on her chair again. "Let's continue to discuss humans banding together against an outside threat."

"I truly thought that if presented with an overwhelming force they would see sense." Loki sat down, and Natasha noted that he was mirroring her. "Had I successfully invaded New York, even after winning, they would have fought me?"

"Yes." Natasha tilted her head. "Do you remember the older man in Berlin?" She waited until Loki's expression showed comprehension and he nodded, his head ending at a similar tilt to hers. "Had you shot him down, the crowd might have remained bowing to you. That man would have been a symbol for a rebellion against you. Another in the crowd might have risen to try to take you down. You caught them off guard, Loki. But once they were used to the idea of magic and aliens, they would have fought you."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because humans will fight to choose their own governance." Natasha leaned back, stretching her legs out before her. "We've gotten quite fond of picking our leadership."

"So humans prefer a leader they like?" Loki asked. "But how do they know if a leader is good or not?"

"How do they know with kings?" Natasha raised an eyebrow. "With a king or a tyrant, you don't get a choice. Our current president was a governor, where he ruled a smaller area. Many of our world leaders start in positions of low power and do those well before moving up to higher and higher levels."

Loki sat back and stretched his legs in front of him. Natasha hid a smile at the language his body was giving her - he was relating to her, opening up to her. It wasn't conscious on his part. He'd probably be horrified he was telling her so much nonverbally. "Even if a superior being came and offered to rule and protect them benevolently? They'd still have a problem with him?"

His sincerity and forthright confusion was most cute, and Natasha had to bite back a laugh. Yes, teaching him about human customs was the best idea she'd had in a while.

She could almost forget he'd taken Phil from them. Of course, he hadn't _really_ taken him either. The blame for that she was going to lay at Fury's feet.

"First, you assume that humans _want_ to be ruled by a superior being. We don't. You're looking _down_ at us, but think about it if someone invaded Asgard with only the best of intentions. They were superior to you and wanted to benevolently rule you." Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "How well would your people take that?"

Loki considered her for a long moment of silence. "Not well." His admission was grudging at best.

"Then your people and mine are not that different." Natasha glanced at her watch and rose. "Have a good evening, Loki."


	6. Chapter 6

Thor came to see him once a week, to eat a meal and attempt to talk to him. For the last twelve weeks, Loki had been ignoring his efforts. Thor wanted the familial connection with Loki again, to have back his adoring little brother. The blond oaf didn't understand that he'd never have his dark little shadow again. The little brother had realized he was second to his big brother and the adoration had turned to bitterness.

Today, however, Loki needed something from Thor. He needed some perspective. "Why do you love these mortals so much, _brother_?"

On the other side of the glass, Thor lowered his fork, his blond brows rising in surprise at being spoken to. Normally, they ate in silence. Loki knew that the sudden question would throw him off, and hopefully he'd get a true answer from his adoptive kin. "I find them fascinating. They are so frail and weak and need my protection. They live such short lives, yet live them much like you or I do."

"So you enjoy protecting them." Loki probed a bit deeper, rolling his brother's answer in his head. It was a very Thor answer, wrapped up in strength and weakness - oh, and mind-numbingly boring.

"Yes." Thor smiled broadly. "It is very rewarding to give my protection to them."

"And how did this come about?" Loki asked. He found himself curious; he'd arranged things so that his brother wouldn't come back to Asgard, yet he didn't know exactly what had brought about the rapid conversion of Thor into a lover of Midgardians.

Thor aborted another forkful of mashed potatoes, out and out abandoning it on the side of his plate. Folding his hands together, he stared hard at Loki; just when the adopted jotun thought that Thor would refuse to answer, his brother sighed. "When you cast me into fear and doubt, the mortals accepted me. They made room for me in their world, and they would have allowed me succor there."

"So they fed you and were nice to you." Loki took a bite of his mashed potatoes, secretly wishing he had more. His next few bites would be green bean, to draw out the moment when his potatoes were gone. Most food on Midgard was sickly sweet but he'd found their vegetables quite good. "How magnanimous of you." He leaned forward. "You forget, brother, I know: Selvig told me that he made you promise to leave Jane in the morning, to abandon her for her own sake. That doesn't seem very accepting to me."

"Selvig's heart was in the right place." Thor's stubbornness could be legendary and Loki sighed inwardly as he saw it in evidence now. His brother had decided that he'd been accepted with open arms and he would twist events around in his head to make it happen. "And in the morning, he had changed his mind."

_No, he hadn't._ Selvig had been ready to insist Thor leave as promised when the Destroyer had arrived and it had all come to an end regardless. _Ah, my bad timing_, Loki mused sadly. He wished he'd waited just a little longer, just so that Thor would _know_ that he'd been on the verge of rejection.

"So a bit of love and softness from a mortal, followed by a drunken heart-to-heart with another, and you are their mighty protector." Loki shook his head. "Do you know how pathetic that is?"

Thor glared at Loki. "I am not the one in the mortal's cell. I am not the one our father would have killed, had our mother not intervened. I do not think you understand the word 'pathetic', brother."

"I think that I tried for that which I wanted," Loki spat, glad that his brother was paying spite with spite. This was familiar currency to jotun prince. "I saw an open throne on a world that needed a firmer hand and I reached to claim it."

"You are full of bitterness." Thor rose, picking up his plate. "I had hoped that in time you would come to see that your hate has blinded you to the beauty here."

Loki rose as well, moving to the front of the glass. "Can you still find beauty when you bury Jane Foster? Can you feel joy knowing that she will never bear you a son? Will the world still seem so lovely and bright when your eyes are dimmed with grief?"

Thor stopped before the door. "I will cherish the memories I make with her." He turned back to Loki. "I will always have her love, and her heart, and that will be enough. All you will have is a cell unless you change your ways, brother."

"I will escape, Odinson." Loki knew he would. It was a matter of time before he outwitted these mortals.

"And gain what? No one will speak of you when you're gone. No one will care about you, beyond that they care you don't hurt them or one they love." The blond godling curled his lip. "You think this makes you powerful, yet all it makes you is pathetic." He turned and stormed away, leaving Loki alone.

Loki would never admit it but it was the isolation that got to him. The months without the touch of another living creature affected even him. He endured it as best he could, ignoring the faint panic that came whenever Thor or the mortal woman left him alone. The toys he'd been given staved off the boredom for a while but gradually he consented to read even the books. He noticed that if he put them in the slot through which they passed items to him, the woman would bring more.

"Here," she said one day, sitting down and working a thick book through the slot. Loki moved to help her, finding that he reached for her fingers with his own, just to feel something other than glass and books and cloth. But her slim digits pulled away, denying him.

"_War and Peace_?" he read off the cover, wondering if she'd passed him a boring book on morality.

"It's one of my favorites. I thought you might enjoy it." She gave him a smile and Loki found himself smiling in return - and meaning it. He hadn't smiled like that since he'd learned why Thor was the favored son. "We can talk about, afterwards."

"I doubt it." Loki did what he could to distance himself from the warm feeling she'd generated in him. Mother had often done the same thing: found a book she thought he'd enjoy. She would wait impatiently for him to read it and then they'd talk about it for hours. If there had been spells in its covers, they would do them together, laughing and giggling and playing games with their illusions.

"What was that look for?" Natasha's expression was friendly yet curious, and Loki realized he'd been thinking of Mother.

Loki wanted to tell her. He wanted to talk to someone about Mother, and her death. He would never lower himself to speak of his feelings to a mortal. He opened his mouth and shocked even himself when he said, "My mother would do this."

"Give you books?" Natasha sat in her chair, looking interested.

"Yes." Loki ran his fingers over the leather binding and flipped open the cover. There was an inscription on it and he read aloud. "_Tasha - I hear Russians like this short story. Next time you're on a long surveillance sting, you'll have something to read to Barton._" Touched that she would loan him a gift, he looked up, his mouth open to say something sharp to relieve the sweetness he felt.

The look in her eyes stopped him. "Can I have that back, please?" She put a hand out, her eyes cool and her expression guarded. "I grabbed the wrong copy."

Pleasure turned to irritation. Loki debated tearing the book apart but he didn't want her visits to stop. "I'll take good care of it," he promised, closing his fingers more tightly over the book. His mother had written messages for him in books, at times. "Who gave this to you? A lover?"

"A friend… almost a lover." She took a deep breath. "You can hold onto it. He turned out to be an asshole." Visibly shaking off her sadness, she asked, "What are you going to teach me today?"

Loki paused, thinking. "I thought some Asgardian culture."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly as she adopted a knowing smile. "Tired of talking about Midgard culture?" she asked, her tone light and almost teasing.

"Yes. I want to show that we're superior to your people in all ways." Loki cleared his throat and said, "We'll start with a bit of history…"


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm so impressed with you. You don't even know." Stark leaned against the edge of his desk, his expression one of admiration. "I thought I was impressed when you wiped the floor with Happy. Turns out, not even close to the feelings you're inspiring now."

"Knock it off, Stark. It's just my job." Natasha looked away from the excited inventor to the image of Loki on the screen. The time-date stamp showed it was from this afternoon, just after she left Loki. He was staring forlornly at the door, his expression lonely.

It was an intimate picture, and it made her uncomfortable.

"Then you are _good_ at your job. You have a god pining for you. It's only been six months. I am in awe of you." Stark shook his head. "I feel like I should applaud in your presence. You are _truly_ a piece of work."

"It leaves a bad taste in my mouth." Steve had been silent until now, his expression subdued. He'd been in a bad mood since his return to Avengers Tower without Barnes.

Stark raised an eyebrow at the statement. "That she's non-violently getting a god to reform? I thought you'd love that."

"It feels like she's befriending him for nefarious purposes." Steve looked at her, his eyes sad and disapproving.

Natasha made sure he saw nothing in her eyes, even if part of her agreed with him. "A friend is a friend. Don't worry, Steve, I know what I'm doing."

She thought she had known before seeing the picture of Loki looking like a puppy left in the cold. _No, use the right words. He looks like someone who's been denied basic human contact for months._ She remembered children in the Red Room looking like that too.

She remembered days when she looked like that, too.

Natasha immediately changed her mind on her game plan. "I need access to his cage. The interior."

Stark held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, I think you're good but you're not _that_ good." Natasha threw him an annoyed look. "It's the Asgardian Mussolini, not your average villain with delusions of grandeur. I'm pretty sure that his delusions of grandeur are closer to realities of grandeur. Besides, opening the cell leaves us susceptible to use of his illusions."

"Stark's right." Steve didn't appear to be in pain after openly agreeing with Stark, though Natasha wasn't sure how he wasn't. "You've done well but this is just too dangerous. Even if he doesn't escape, he can still kill you."

"Do you guys want this to go to the next level or not?" She looked from one man to the other, glad Thor wasn't in the room to muddle the issue with his familiar ties to the target. "Because the next level involves physical contact. For that, we need to have a certain amount of trust in him."

Stark raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you really trust that he won't snap your neck like uncooked spaghetti the first chance he gets?"

"That look tells me he won't. We're breaking him down, slowly." Natasha looked at Steve to see if he agreed but the super soldier stared at the monitor. "Steve?"

"I feel like we're taking his free will away. I feel like we're the same people who took Bucky. Who took you, Natasha." Steve looked troubled.

"You mean like how Loki took Barton and unmade him." Natasha couldn't help but point that out. "Don't you think he should get a taste of his own medicine?"

"This isn't even his medicine, guys." Stark spread his hands wide. "This isn't what was done by Loki to Hawkeye. This isn't even what was done to the Winter Soldier or Natasha. This is us being _way_ nicer to this guy than he deserves. He almost killed Phil. He stole people's free will. He invaded New York and almost got _me_ killed, which is clearly the greatest of his crimes. Instead of dragging him into the World Court, we're feeding him, housing him, and entertaining him. So no, I don't feel like the guys who have screwed with various people, because there is _no comparison_."

In the silence after Stark's statement, Steve left the room. "He just needs to come to terms with it, in his own mind," Natasha said.

"I know." Stark sighed through his nose. "He's overly sensitive to it right now, I think." He looked at her. "Don't think my words mean I'm okay with this. But!" He held up a finger to stop her coming comment. "It's your choice. Your body, your life, your death. I'll have JARVIS watching extra-closely. I don't think Loki can use his illusions on him."

"Thank you." Natasha had been a little worried about that, though the room containing the cell locked as well.

"Don't thank me. He might just kill you." For once, he was utterly serious as he made his dire statement.

"What is that?" Loki had sat up when she entered the room, eyeing the item in her hand. Her copy of _War and Peace_ rested across his lap.

Natasha glanced at the book, feeling conflicted about it - both the godling handling something so personal to her and the man who given it to her. "This," she said as she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the lock, "is a chess board."

"Like in the book." Loki rose as the door opened; Natasha ignored the uneasy feeling as he looked at the door a little too intently. Instead, she entered and set down the low chess table on the floor.

"I thought you might want to learn to play," Natasha said as she sat down cross-legged at White's position. Loki stared at her for a moment. Natasha thought he might refuse or attack her. His expression was distant and cool as he sat down across from her. He didn't say anything and she took his silence as assent.

"Each of these pieces has a different name and movement." Natasha opened the box of pieces and pulled out the black royalty. "King. Queen." Leaning forward, she set the carved wood piece in place - and Loki grabbed her right hand.

"What is your game?" he hissed at her, his eyes narrowed.

Natasha had known that he might lash out or be suspicious, so she had a ready answer. "Chess."

His fingers were warm around her hand; though he held her gently, she could feel the terrible strength in his body. He could crush her fingers as easily as she smashed a ripe peach. "Why are you in here?"

"Because I thought you might like chess. Because I like chess, and Clint is gone. Because Stark won't play a game he might lose." She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a problem?"

His fingers tightened for a moment before he released her hand. "Fine. Teach me."

Natasha set up the pieces and explained their moves. Loki listened intently, his expression cool and distant. They'd actually gotten through a few moves before Loki asked, "You used to play this with Agent Barton?"

Natasha felt herself stiffen. "Yes."

"Yet you never read that book to him." Loki's green eyes glittered with malignance. "Why?"

"Just never came up." Natasha tried to put the right amount of carelessness into the answer to be believed.

"Where did he go?"

Too late, she saw she'd trapped herself. "Where did who go?"

"Barton. Where did he go?" The godling watched her closely.

"He left." Natasha's chest felt tight. She heard her Red Room instructor saying, "_Everyone has weak spots."_ Barton was hers and Loki knew it.

"For HYDRA?" Loki's expression was too innocent as she locked eyes with him.

Natasha tried to swallow. "He told you?"

"Of course he did. He told me _everything_." Loki leaned over the board, so close she smelled the soap he'd used that morning. "Which is why I took such pleasure when I shoved the sceptre into _his _back-"

Natasha shoved the chess table against him. The lip caught him in the knees but he was tough enough that he just laughed at her display. Shaking with anger, she rose and went to the door, opening the cell. He was still laughing when she left the room.

The sense of righteous justification from Steve was almost intolerable but worse was Tony's glum face and whining. At least Steve had left town following another clue to his long-lost friend. Stark just hung around making smart-ass comments about Loki. Natasha ignored him. She had no plans to return to the demi-god - he could rot for all she cared. Phil might have been an asshole but he was _their_ asshole. No one got to talk about murdering him with such callousness.

"It did answer a question I had." Tony's remark came out of the blue one day. He'd wandered up to her while she was trying to do some paperwork that came with her new position as an Avenger.

"What?" she said, her voice sharp.

"Why Loki killed Coulson. Or tried to." Tony sat down across from her desk. "Why he didn't just take him over. Why he stabbed him. It was personal but it wasn't just meant for all of us. It was meant for you."

"It was meant for everyone." Natasha _was not_ having his conversation.

Tony looked bemused. "Oh, I think that Coulson was killed - almost - because you irritated Loki."

Natasha glared at him. "Thank you for that guilt."

"Not your fault, that's all on Loki. So when Coulson coming around to admit he's alive? Fury given you an idea on that timeline?" Stark's challenge annoyed her worse and the woman stared daggers at him. "So, what was Coulson to you, really?"

"That's none of your business," Natasha growled, crossing her arms and holding her ground.

"A lover?" Tony asked. "I have to say, I can't see the appeal-"

"Not a lover." The words carried a soft twinge of pain with them still.

"So what did Barton tell Loki that made Coulson someone he should _take_ from you?" Stark was talking with his hands again, waving them around as words tumbled from his lips. "What was it about Coulson that made killing him a more attractive option than corrupting him? Was it because he'd already corrupted Barton?"

"Stop asking. I'm not talking about this." Natasha pushed past him, scowling, only to nearly plow into Thor's broad chest as she tried to leave the room.

The godling stopped just outside the doorway. "Natasha," he said in that deep, sexy voice, "I have need to talk to you."

"You're talking," she replied briskly as she slipped out into the hallway.

Thor followed her. "I need you to return to my brother."

She turned to glare at him. Had all the men in the tower lost their minds? "No."

Thor ducked in front of her, moving with surprising speed for his size. "Please. He refuses food and drink, and has since you left him."

"Tough." Natasha dodged around him and kept walking. "I don't owe him anything."

"I agree." Thor followed her closely, speaking intently. "Natasha, I have seen the changes you have wrought in him, and I am loathe to see them cease. Yes, he was harsh in his words. Yes, he was rude. You were doing good work."

"I don't care." Natasha turned to face him. "So what if I was?"

Thor seemed to deflate before her eyes. "I want my brother back. I hoped you would show him the way."

"I'm not a therapist. I was working to make your brother pliant and cooperative. If that's really how you want him to be, I'm sure Bruce can recommend Zoloft for Asgardians." Natasha stalked away from the big man and this time, he left her alone.


	8. Chapter 8

TW: graphic depictions of violence in his chapter in particular

Loki regretted his words. Yes, scoring a personal hit on that woman had been satisfying, but not _as_ satisfying as he'd imagined it would be. Worse, she hadn't come back. No one had come back but the guards who delivered the food and Thor. The former didn't speak to him and the latter was insufferable.

His stomach hadn't growled today. That was good. It meant he was getting past the painful parts and starting to proceed to the point he'd fade away. Loki hoped it would end in the Odinsleep. He wanted the escape into endless dreams. Whether he could achieve the Odinsleep was in question but he wanted to try. The lack of food and water shouldn't kill him; the humans would revive him if the situation got that dire.

He eyed the woman's book on the other side of the door. He now wished he hadn't shoved it out of the slot in a petulant moment. It had been far more interesting to read than any of the other mortal books.

_No, you do not need the distraction_, he told himself, closing his eyes and putting his arm over them to completely block the light. In the recesses of his own mind, he went back over the events of the last few months yet again.

"_You lack conviction."_

The mortal had said it as a distraction. That's all it was meant to be. Yet Loki felt as though it was more than just a distraction.

Had he lacked conviction? Had he not wanted the Midgard throne?

Why would he? Why would anyone? Thor was enamored of the short-lived race but they had so little to offer as a people. The Chitauri had wanted the Tesseract, not Earth.

Loki's brow furrowed as he considered that. The Chitauri had lusted for the Tesseract, yet hadn't it been The Other's idea to invade Earth with an army? Loki had not thought of that until the Other said it, and once said, it had seemed a glorious dream. He had seen himself King of a lowly people, yet looking back on that desire, it seemed so pointless. Why would he want to rule over ants? There were better ways to spite his brother.

"_You lack conviction."_

In the privacy of his arm, Loki grimaced. The man had been _right_! How had he and that woman seen what Loki himself could not? What gift of insight could those lowly mortals have that he lacked?

Once again, he found himself wondering why he was doomed to fail before lesser creatures. Thor, the Black Widow, the Coulson: all of them were _beneath_ him, yet he'd faltered and failed before each of them. _How was this possible!_

A low rumble filled the room and Loki sat up, vaguely alarmed. Cracks appeared in the concrete walls around him as crumbles of mortar clattered around the room. Loki stood and cautiously stepped to the glass, looking up at the ceiling. Despite the fissures that now spidered across the top of the room, it seemed to be holding.

A vent high in the far wall popped open, kicked out by a black boot. Loki backed to the far wall as Clint Barton emerged from the narrow tunnel, grinning at him. "Loki, hi. I know, this is kinda awkward, just like anytime a boss meets a disgruntled employee after the employment is over. Except you have the added bonus of knowing that you brainwashed me and basically enslaved me."

Loki didn't say anything. There wasn't anything good enough to say. The Asgardian reached for his magic but in his weakened state, he had no ability to control it. He was grateful that he was in here; Stark's prison had become a sanctuary.

Barton raised his bow, a blunt-tipped arrowhead tipping the shaft. Loki flinched as the arrowhead slammed into the glass and stuck; the moment it was secure, a high-pitched whine started to fill his prison. After only a few seconds, it was intolerable; Loki clamped his hands over his ears but it felt like the noise had invaded every pore of his body.

The glass shattered just before he thought his skull might. The godling ducked the glass before turning to face Barton-

The arrow caught him in the left eye: a perfect shot. Loki shrieked with pain as the sharp head invaded his eye socket; god or not, the pain was immense. He clamped a hand over the shaft only to have the slightest movement send more blasts of pain into his nerves.

"He shoots, he scores!" Barton had raised his arms in victory. When Loki opened his other eye, he could see the shaft sticking out from his head.

"Oh, quit bitching. It's not that bad." Barton marched to his side and grabbed him by the back of his collar. Loki swung at him, only to have his inadequate blow easily sidestepped. He was weakened not just by his wound but by his attempts to emulate Odin's eternal slumber. The slightest motion of his body made his wound throb madly and Loki held himself as still as possible.

Barton scruffed him again and pushed him into motion. "As I see it, I'm doing you a favor. Now you have something in common with the AllDaddy."

The godling stumbled forward, his shock receding. The pain had dropped from paralyzing to merely blinding, and he still didn't have much fight. It was too much effort to stop the soft wail in the back of his throat. Barton shoved him closer to the door. "Quit whining, it's just your eye. HYDRA's going to give you another one, anyway."

"How the fuck!" Tony didn't resort to such vulgar words often but this was a special case.

Natasha had thought she'd buried all of the pain of Clint's betrayal. She'd only half-buried it, and like a corpse in a shallow grave, it was coming to light. She wanted to weep as she watched Barton disappear off the cameras with Loki for the fifth time. She told herself that she was studying the tape to understand what had happened. Banner paused it a good picture of Loki's eye. The doctor frowned as he peered closely at the damage.

Not even Tony had figured out what had happened to JARVIS - to the copy of JARVIS left at the tower, anyway. When the copy of JARVIS in the suit had uploaded to the tower's systems, it had immediately crashed. Tony and a handful of former SHIELD techs were currently scrambling to undo whatever Clint had done to the computer.

"They set us up." Steve was as angry as she'd ever seen him. He was also right. The sudden emergency in Johannesburg had been a raucous carnival, with the officials pleasantly bewildered that the Avengers had shown up to their celebration.

"He will _pay_ for this." Thor stared at the image of his wounded sibling, his face crimson with the force of his rage. "I will tear his fingers from their palms!"

"Let's find him, then come up with the creative torture solutions." Stark dragged his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. "What the fuck did they do to JARVIS?"

His whining about his computer was getting on her nerves. Natasha refrained herself from snapping at him, barely. "We have bigger problems," she said, only to have Stark cut her off.

"No, how they disabled my system is one of the big problems, if not the biggest." He glared at her. "I need JARVIS for the Iron Man suit, too. If they can remotely disable my suit, while I'm in it, I think that's a pretty big fucking deal, don't you?"

"Of course it is," Natasha said, meeting his angry gaze. "But tell me it's worse than HYDRA having Loki in their possession."

He deflated a touch at that. "They're both bad."

"Sir?" A technician approached him with a hesitant smile. "We've found their access port."

Stark relaxed a touch. "Not remote?"

"No, sir." The young woman beamed eagerly. "They had a hard line connection to your systems. Probably there from day one."

The relief was instantly gone. "Sonovabitch. HYDRA hacked me?"

The woman became somber too. "Only by completely bypassing your firewall. Sir, this was probably installed the day your wiring was hooked up."

Tony rubbed his hands through his hair again. "I didn't have my wiring installed by SHIELD." He sighed. "Kill that line, if you haven't already. Then I think we need to format and restart. Then have Pepper find out which company handled the wiring and threaten to sue them unless they cooperate with an investigation."

"We need to save the camera footage," Natasha said quickly.

Tony gave her a long-suffering look. "I do happen to know a thing or two about computers." She inclined her head in acknowledgement of having stated the obvious. "I'll back up the data, wipe the systems and reload JARVIS."

"How long will that take?" Steve asked.

"A day, maybe two."

Banner nodded. "Get to work on it. Natasha, Thor, and I will work on finding HYDRA."


	9. Chapter 9

"Did you have to shoot him in the eye?" Jerome McCulloch peered at Loki's prone form with disgust. The first thing McCulloch had done when Hawkeye loaded him on the helicopter was pump the godling full of sedatives.

"Well, I sleep better now," Barton chuckled, though only he got the joke.

"You've made a mess of his ocular orbit." McCulloch sighed and peered into the wound again. "And you do realize you could have killed him."

"Nah. I'm a better shot than that." Barton smirked as he pulled an apple out of his pouch. Shining it on his shirt, he took a smug bite. "I hit him at an angle with a fairly blunt arrowhead. Blunt being relative when dealing with eyeballs, of course."

"Can you install the hardware?" John Garrett had ignored their bickering, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.

"Yes, I . . ." McCulloch peered more deeply and said, "Well, hell. Damn aliens."

"What?" Garrett snapped.

"He's regenerating the damage. Slowly enough that I can install the hardware, but I think his body will reject the devices." McCulloch peered at Garrett. "The camera, the receiver and transmitter will be expelled by his healing, or the process will render our devices unusable."

Garrett's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You guaranteed me this would work."

"No, I said that it _should_ work." The Scotsman met Garrett's eyes without fear. He reached out and put a hand on Loki's slowly rising and falling chest. "You should understand - he's got enough sedatives in him to knock out a rhino on a sugar high, and I'm not entirely sure he's completely out of it."

The noisy crunch of another bite of apple filled the room. "Loki's dangerous. You should just let me put an arrow into his other eye. Without a blunt head shot at an angle." Barton's arrogance and smile had faded into professional assessment.

"Dangerous but potentially useful." Garrett moved to the computer in the hastily erected medical bay and typed in a few commands. An image of a technical diagram of a strange-looking chair appeared on the screen and he turned it toward McCulloch. "What about something like this? Do you think it would work on an Asgardian?"

McCulloch leaned in, peering at the image for a moment. "Fuck if I know. I wasn't involved in the Winter Soldier project," he said tersely, straightening. "Personally I feel that Loki is a little shit who has a grudge against the Avengers and SHIELD. We should just use that."

"I'm pretty sure Barton shot that option to hell, literally." Garrett sighed. "Well, we have nothing to lose. He goes in the chair."

"Can we make him my little bitch?" Barton asked quickly.

"You got to shoot him in the eye. I think you've done enough." Garrett gave the archer a glare before glancing at the silent man in the room. "Ward'll be his handler." Grant Ward nodded once in quiet confirmation.

There was a moment of silence and suddenly Garrett said, "Guys, we need more diversity in this group. Look at all the sausages in the room! Man, we need some eye candy. Next agent we recruit has to be a hot chick."

"Any chance we can grab Romanov?" McCulloch asked with a leer.

"I'm the only one who gets to grab her." Barton's words were edged with warning and malice.

"Oo, someone has a crush." McCulloch grinned nastily at the archer.

"Way to display your heart on your sleeve," Ward added.

Garrett raised an eyebrow at his loyal follower and said, "Skye." Ward's lips set in a firm line and a blush tinged his cheekbones, but he didn't rebut the comment. "And no one's going after the Black Widow. Hawkeye, you had years to bring her around and you didn't. You had your shot. It's done, let her go." He looked at the archer, who didn't look convinced. "I mean, her name should tell us why we shouldn't bother, right? She'll kill you on the spot for being HYDRA."

"I can get close to her and grab her," Barton insisted.

"I know you can. It's what happens after you grab her that I'm worried about." Garrett raised his hands in appeasement. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. You give me a year or so to build up some replacements for you, and I'll let you take your shot. I just can't afford to lose you right now." He put an arm around Barton's shoulders, his smile friendly. "Deal?"

"Fine." Barton shoved Garrett's arm off of shoulders. "But no one else gets to try for her first."

"No problem, man. We can all respect that." Garrett agreed easily and kept the smile on his face until Barton was out of the room. "Man, he needs to get _laid_."

"Think he's going to be a problem?" Ward asked.

Garrett made a 'duh' face. "Oh, hell yes. But for now he's more useful than problematic." He glanced back at McCulloch. "Fix up our new friend."

"He should have a nickname. It should be Green Goat." McCulloch glanced up when no one replied to find the two men in the room staring at him in confusion. "Because he wears green, and the… you-know." He gestured with his hands, calling to mind the horns that Loki's helmet bore.

"Let's work on that. I think the only person who'd be afraid of that is a toddler." Garrett shook his head. "A sheltered toddler. For now, you worry about reprogramming him; bring his new history to me when you have it done. I'll worry about his codename."

He woke up slowly and painfully. The light was bright to the point of painfulness and he gratefully closed his eyes. After a moment, he slung an arm over his face to further block out the lights. It was only after he was comfortable again that he thought to ask, _Where am I? What happened to me?_

He had vague memories of being captured and held by Stark, of the Black Widow interrogating him. Logan shifted on the bed and sat up, taking another attempt to see the room. It was his room. He recognized it visually after studying it but it felt alien. The computer on the desk was smaller than he remembered; the bed was softer than felt right. He wore only his boxer shorts, his normal sleeping attire. Everything _looked_ as it should, but nothing felt familiar.

A tap at his door had him reaching for his gun. Once again, the action seemed correct but felt wrong. "Who's there?" he called.

"It's John. I wanted to check on you." There was a momentary pause. "Can I come in?"

John Garrett, his friend and head of their HYDRA cell. The facts and details about John were there but they felt like pure data not personal knowledge. He checked the gun, making sure it was loaded and the safety off before hiding it under the blankets. "Yes."

He normally kept his door locked but John entered without a key. Logan ran his hands through his short hair, eyeing the other man warily. John noted his discomfort and took a seat at the table, moving slowly and keeping his hands in sight. "Hey, Logan, how are you feeling?"

"Like shit." He grimaced as once again, the words felt wrong and right. "What happened?"

"Coulson. He and his team got ahold of you and messed with your brain." John turned his finger in circles around his temple as he spoke. "They dumped you with Stark and Romanov when they couldn't finish the job and let them work on turning your brain into spaghetti."

It made sense. It matched his memories - most of them. He didn't think that Romanov would play chess with him as an interrogation procedure. "How'd I get out?" Logan asked, feeling anger and dread in equal measure. Since HYDRA's revelation, his greatest fear - any of their greatest fears - was being back in the hands of SHIELD scientists.

"You didn't. We staged an attack, using an old in we had to Stark's tower and liberal use of Deathlok." It was implied in John's words that they'd burned that in, and Logan bit back a grimace. He hated that they'd had to give away an advantage just to recover him.

Still, they had recovered him, and that deserved a response. "Thank you." Logan slipped his hands under the blanket and thumbed off the safety.

John saw the motion but there was no anger or condemnation in his eyes. They had all been there before - forced to doubt someone they trusted and the process of returning to that place of trust. "You'd do it for us, Logan. You need anything?"

Logan considered, rubbing his hands through his hair again. "I need a shower. I'm kinda hungry, too."

"Clean up. I'll make you something - steak and sweet potato?" It was Logan's favorite food, sans apple pie. John didn't often offer to cook so it made his statement particularly kind.

Still, Logan shook his head, a wry smile curling his lips. "I'm adverse to eating beef leather and blackened sweet potatoes."

"You ass," John laughed at him. "Offer to do a nice thing and get made fun of. I'll remember this."

The sense of camaraderie was alien and yet so delightful. It felt like something he'd longed for all his life - to belong to a group and truly be part of it, instead of his brother's dark shadow. Thomas had always been the star athlete, the quarterback, the one everyone loved. Logan had always wanted to be him until he'd found HYDRA. They'd given a place to belong, and even command of his own team. They'd given him a purpose: to bring order to the world.

"You okay? You kinda zoned out there." John's gentle words brought Logan's attention back to the room.

"Yeah." He rubbed his hair again. Not only did he need another washing but it felt wrong – too short. "Stark and his goons really messed me up."

"You're off missions until you feel better." John held up a hand at Logan's protest. "I know, I know. It's for everyone's good."

"Yes, of course." Logan wished he felt more normal; silently, he cursed the remnants of SHIELD.

John nodded as he rose to his feet. "You're still going to eat after the shower, right? I think a meal would do you good."

Logan managed a weak smile. "Yes. I'll cook something."

"Good. Call anyone if you need something." The older man waved his thumb at the door. "Grant's right next door." When Logan nodded, John left him alone.


	10. Chapter 10

It took a week for things to feel right again. Everything in his life had been skewed: his taste in food, music, literature, and even his ability to shave with his preferred straight razor. The greatest loss was his fighting reflexes. Grant had stomped him several times in the gym despite Logan's superior skills. The HYDRA super-serum that had been administered to him in his youth didn't actually compensate enough when someone had forgotten how to use their body. Every time that Logan hit the floor, he silently cursed Coulson.

The morning that he woke up and didn't wonder where he was, Logan counted it a victory. Things only got better from there: listening to The Killdares felt calming instead of unnerving in its alienness. Breakfast - bacon, pancakes, and eggs – smelled good instead of weird. And for the first time, the sight of Clint Barton didn't fill him with a murderous rage. Instead, there was a mild sense of dislike; he and Barton had never gotten along but they were on the same team and that came first.

This morning was the first time his easy banter with his team over food came with simplicity and Logan slowly relaxed even more. He felt the others grow more at ease as they saw his decrease in tension. He considered asking John to be put back on missions but decided against it. Garrett liked to make his own decisions without being pushed to it. Logan resolved to wait patiently.

Fate intervened; that afternoon, Garrett's voice came over the loudspeakers. "Everyone, assemble in the conference room. Be ready to play." Logan wasn't sure that meant him but he dashed to his room anyway and grabbed his gear. His body armor went on over his green t-shirt first; he was tougher than most but he still took the extra protection. The two bandoliers crossed over his chest gave him extra ammo and contained a few grenades behind his back. A tactical belt with a number of gadgets rested on his hips, while he added a knife to the holster in his boot. Armed and armored, he hurried to the room in question.

When he entered, Barton gave him a sour look but said nothing. John glanced at him but didn't tell him to leave. Logan took his place against the wall and waited for everyone to arrive. Grant joined him with a small smile, geared similarly to Logan. McCulloch was last, as usual, but he had the most gear. His duffle bags of medical gear were huge and unwieldy, and the medic was huffing heavily as he joined them.

"We have a situation." John tapped a computer screen and showed a map of the Southern Indian Ocean. "Fifteen minutes ago, an earthquake off of Pulau Rote. There's an underground HYDRA base located under nearby Rai Dana." Another tap brought the uninhabited island onto the screen in detail. "The entrance is here, and in another ten minutes will be under water, at which point the base will start to flood due to damage from the earthquake. We are currently the closest HYDRA team with the resources to aid them.

"Make no mistake. We are an hour from them." John glanced at each of them to be sure they had done the math and understood. "This is not a rescue mission. We are to recover HYDRA intel and equipment that the crew was unable to take with them. We have a thirty minute window before the Avengers will be in the area, providing relief to the locals. There also might be aftershocks but the Bus should be able to ride them out. Coulson and his crew might show up as well. Questions?"

"Who's going in the water?" Grant asked.

"You and Logan. I'll remain on the Bus in case we have to take to the air to avoid secondary waves. McCulloch will remain on the Bus to provide medical care _if_ we find a survivor. Clint is our lookout for the Avengers or Coulson." John glanced around the room to confirm everyone knew their place. "Let's go."

Their flight passed over islands already affected by the disaster. Without being asked, Grant pulled up an external view of the ocean under the Bus on the main screen. Even well above the local land masses, the devastation was apparent.

"Poor guys." Grant muttered the words softly enough that only Logan could hear.

"They need someone to protect them. Like HYDRA." Logan felt for them; they were at the mercy of their poverty and nature.

"If Rogers hadn't screwed Project Insight, we could be saving them right now." Barton slipped up behind the men, scowling. "At least I don't have to pretend to suck up to that cock now."

"I thought you liked him," McCulloch said, glancing up from an embalming journal he was reading. He seemed very uninterested in rendering medicinal aid for a health professional. Of course, Logan wasn't sure what _kind_ of medical training he'd had.

"I had to pretend to be his buddy but he's so annoying." Clint rolled his eyes. "He's always asking about pop culture references. You couldn't tell a joke around him."

"That's the hard part of any undercover mission," Grant said softly. "Dealing with the people you're undercover with."

Something in his words made Logan glance up at his co-worker. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes and Logan resisted the urge to comfort him. It seemed the natural thing to do, something that his brother would do to a teammate who seemed down. But this wasn't the local football team; they were all professional operatives and none of them tolerated weakness, in themselves least of all.

"We're here." John's announcement brought relief to the tersely waiting men. Logan and Grant swapped their normal gear for the aquatic armor and weapons, as well as air tanks. Once Garrett had set the plane down on the water, the two men dropped into the roiling waves.

The waters were still high when they dropped into the ocean. It was a twenty-foot dive to the door, which had once been on the shoreline. The door, once camouflaged by sand and rocks, now had been scoured of its passive defenses, and the metal was easily spotted. It was easy for Grant to screw back the lock on the door but it took both men's strength to get it open.

The opening immediately sent a gush of floating objects past the two men: office supplies, scientific equipment, computers, and bodies. Grant and Logan left it to the three men above to sort through what was floating up to them.

Logan went first, his underwater rifle held in a tight grip. A few strong kicks propelled him down the stairs and through the first room to the elevator. He forced the doors, releasing another mass of objects. The two men swam down one level to the first floor, which was living areas.

They searched the first floor quickly. Most of the people had evacuated; the bodies they'd found had been the last ones out, those who had failed to make it before the tsunami. These rooms were mostly empty and had little of strategic value.

The next floor was the bulk of the monitoring equipment that HYDRA used to keep an eye on affairs in this portion of the Indian Ocean. They searched this floor quickly, too, but this time they yanked hard drives out of the computers. The technicians were supposed to take backups with them, but no one expected an egghead to remember that when the fury of the Indian Ocean was bearing down on them.

The hard drives were collected into a bag affixed with a self-inflating balloon. Grant started the chemical process that filled the inflatable and released it in the elevator shaft.

The last level was the crucial floor and they had reserved the most time for it. Weapons were stored here, as well as the CO's computer, which contained sensitive information on it. Logan and Grant picked through the weapons, taking the high-end prototypes being tested here, and pulled the CO's hard drive.

"Five minutes." John's voice made Logan jump; he'd forgotten that he had a radio bud in his ear. He glanced at Grant, who gave him a thumb's up - they were done.

Logan returned the gesture and followed the balloons up the shaft toward the exit and the Bus. Elation filled his being as he realized he'd completed a mission. He'd been a part of his team; he belonged to them.

It felt like he'd waited his whole life to belong somewhere, and now that he did, he wasn't going to give it up, ever.

Phil Coulson woke from a nightmare. Groaning, he sat up in his bed, wrinkling his nose at the sweat that had soaked into his sheets. Apparently, he'd been in its grip for some time.

The dream was the same as it had been since May showed him the video. The details changed but the overview as the same - he went slowly, inexorably mad. This nightmare had involved cutting Skye into little pieces and making meat pie for everyone else on the team.

"No more _Hannibal_ for you, buddy." His habit of giving orders to himself remained a private one, thankfully.

With a grunt, he pushed himself off the bed and went to change his clothing. As he did, he glanced at his clock and mentally calculated what time it was in New York. Then he calculated how long it would take him to get there.

It wasn't the first time he'd considered ditching the team and running for New York. Banner and Stark should be able to help him, and if they wouldn't, at least Natasha would be around to comfort him as he went insane.

Thoughts of the redheaded agent made him anxious, as always. His movements became jerky as he pulled another pair of boxers on and selected a new shirt. Phil sighed at himself, annoyed when he realized he was staring at the phone again.

He wanted to call her. He wanted to hear her calm, cool voice tell him that they'd figure it out.

Phil studied the cheap motel bed, rubbing his face when he decided that it was too wet to sleep on it now. He counted the number of towels he had to lay down on the bed and sighed again. Not nearly enough to make sleep comfortable.

He found a dry blanket and pillow and headed out to the pool, slipping into one of the pool chairs. It wasn't the most comfortable bed he'd ever known but he'd definitely had worse. The former agent of SHIELD wasn't eager to sleep again but he knew he needed it. He had to hold them together.

He was almost asleep when Skye's door opened and she stepped out into the night. Phil wasn't ready to face her, not after that nightmare. He still smiled for her and lifted a hand to sleepily wave. She waved in return and took the chair next to his. "I heard you come out. Nightmare?" she asked.

"Yeah." He waited tensely for her to ask about it.

Instead she nodded. "I heard you yelling."

Phil stiffened. "What was I yelling?"

"A woman's name. Something with a 't'. Tonya, maybe Tasha." Skye looked at him. "You always yell that name when you're having bad dreams. You've been calling out to her a lot recently."

The agent rubbed his eyes. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't keep any more secrets from Skye or anyone else on his team. This was his personal hell, though. How could he tell them that his mind was going to break under the pressure of knowing he'd died and been brought back to life?

"Who is she?" Skye asked after a moment of silence.

Phil closed his eyes. He knew he shouldn't talk about this but he did anyway. He opened his eyes to stare at the full moon overhead. "Tasha. I was her SO, once."

"Wow. Was she HYDRA?" Skye's question didn't surprise him, not after her experiences with her SO.

"No, not Natasha." He saw Skye start when he used the Black Widow's full first name. "She'd never do that. She's… beyond doubt, beyond reproach."

"Do you love her?" The sentence was whispered, a child asking a life-changing question in the dark.

Phil struggled with the answer. He wasn't sure he himself knew. He'd worked hard to keep the answer to that question a 'no'. "I suppose so. As much as I let myself love anyone subordinate to me."

"I love you." Skye looked at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable in the dark. "Not like _that_." Not like she had with Ward. "Like family. I want you to tell me the truth - what is wrong?"

Phil drew a deep breath. He'd dreaded this question because his answer wasn't a good one. "I don't want to tell you."

"Would you tell her?" Skye watched him closely. "If she asked?"

Phil chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know that she'd give me a choice in the matter."

His young hacker rose from her chair and sat on the edge of his, taking his hand. Her soft fingers smoothed his rougher skin as she begged, "Then call her. If you won't tell me, then call Natasha." He opened his mouth and Skye shook her head as the first tear started to fall. "Phil, _please_."

If he hadn't viewed her like a daughter, he might have been able to hold strong. When Skye wept and begged him to get help, he cracked.

It was eight a.m. for her. She should be up.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry this one is so short, folks. I didn't have a good way to break up the next chunk which is fairly large.

Natasha had just finished her breakfast when the phone rang. It wasn't the encrypted one Stark had given her or the one she'd held onto after SHIELD was gone. It definitely wasn't her personal phone - the Winter Soldier had blown that phone to pieces and she'd replaced it with a new number. This was her emergency burner.

Only a handful of people in the world had that number, and all but two of them lived in Stark's tower, less than seven floors from where she was.

Her hands didn't shake as she picked up the phone. That surprised her a little; she'd thought she'd be more anxious about the possibility of a call from Clint. In her heart, she already knew who it would be.

She didn't know the number but that wasn't surprising given the status of SHIELD. She opened the line and said with a Bronx accent, "Vasily's Pizza, ready in fifteen minutes or it's free."

"Natasha." The ragged tone to his voice hollowed out her stomach and the super-spy sat down on her chair.

"Phil." Natasha had pondered how she'd react to this call; in her mind, she'd always been cold, distant, and full of righteous anger. Now that he was on the line, now that his voice was in her ear, she felt only relief. She couldn't hide it from him.

"I need to see you. Can I come in?" He sounded steadier and may have even been smiling.

"You can always come in from the cold, Phil." Natasha paused. "I still have my apartment in Queens." That was not true; the apartment was in Greenwich. Phil would know that but eavesdroppers shouldn't.

"I'll be there in eight hours. I will arrive in town with some friends but they'll be staying with my mother." That was Phil's favorite code for getting a cheap motel.

"Call me when you're here." Natasha felt giddy as the truth started to settle into her gut - Phil was coming to see her.

"I will." There was silence and she thought he'd hung up but he said, "I've missed you, Tasha."

A surge of warmth filled her from her toes to the top of her head. "Your aim always needed work." The old joke between them felt wonderful. It soured only a little when she remembered that Clint had been part of it, too. "See you soon."

His voice turned reluctant. "Bye."

The line went dead. Now all she had to do was wait patiently.

She was terrible at that so she went down to the range to put a few hundred rounds through her guns. That always made her feel better, more centered.

Clint watched the two men across the room while sharpshooting inside the shooting range. The fact that he never glanced at his target but still struck the center every time went largely unnoticed. Such a feat was far from unusual with the archer.

His attention was on the sparring forms, wrestling and twisting together as they practiced close combat. Grant rarely stopped practicing; the man worked himself like a machine. Since they were stopping over at the Prague HYDRA base, they were taking advantage of the gym. Clint wasn't fooled by his act. Grant's problem was that woman, that Skye. He tried to distract rather than face the problem head on.

By contrast, Clint's big problem was that he wasn't allowed to deal with his major problem directly: "Logan". He glared the man sparring with Grant. Clint still wanted to put an arrow in his eye - both eyes actually, since the first had healed. If he'd had his way, he would have killed the godling and reduced a threat to HYDRA at the same time.

Garrett wasn't listening to Clint, however. The archer shot his last arrow and started the long walk down the range to fetch his shafts. As he marched, he contemplated the issue, trying to think of another angle to come at it from. John Garrett believed that "Logan" was more useful than dangerous, when the opposite was true. All it would take was a momentary slip in the conditioning, and "Logan" would snap all of their necks with a gleeful giggle.

Ward hit the padded floor with a thump and a grunt. "Ah, you bastard," he laughingly groaned, holding out a hand to Logan. "You're getting better."

"It's starting to feel more natural." Logan hauled the other man to his feet with a pleased smile.

Clint scowled at the admission, and at the easy camaraderie between the two men. Ward wasn't that good of an actor; he was starting to _enjoy_ Loki's company. He was starting to forget that "Logan" wasn't their friend.

The door to the gym opened as Clint yanked the last shaft loose. John entered with a woman close on his heels; the flash of red hair made his heart miss a beat. It wasn't Natasha but the woman sauntering behind John bore some resemblance to her. She had the same confidence and arrogance of Natasha, but she carried herself like she was the only woman in the world. Like the Black Widow, she was fit and well-formed, if a few inches shorter than his former partner. The lack of height exaggerated her curves and Clint felt his interest stir.

Her blue eyes flicked over him and settled on Ward before bouncing to Loki. Her smile widened as she took in the godling, her expression becoming predatory. Clint felt his jaw drop slightly. _Fucking figures_, he thought sourly, watching the new woman vamp for "Logan". Shoving the arrows into his quiver, he exited the range. He should at least pretend to be interested, even if she had the poor taste to be drawn to Logan.

"Clint, this is Annabelle Jordan." John nodded to him as the girl tore her eyes off of Logan and extended her hand toward him. "Annabelle, Clint Barton."

"Hawkeye." Her blue eyes roved over his form.

Her name was familiar to him, too. "Ricochet. I hear you can bounce bullets around corners." When she made a falsely modest expression, he added, "I'd love to see that sometime."

"I'd be happy to show you all." Though she'd been speaking to Hawkeye, her eyes darted over to Logan and it was clear whom she was really interested in showing off for.

Clint rolled his eyes; she was so busy ogling Loki that she didn't notice. Grant did, raising an eyebrow at him. Clint ignored him. "I have target practice. Ricochet - it was nice to meet you."

"You too," but once again, she wasn't talking to anyone but the brainwashed Loki.

Shaking his head, he headed back to the range, anger roiling through him like a wave.


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha had calmed down by the time her doorbell rang. Her heart gave a little jerk as she heard the noise but she forced her movements to be slow and careful. She didn't go to the front door; she went to the side wall and peeked through the spyhole.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she saw it was Phil. He looked so real, so normal, that it caught her off guard. She took a moment to make sure she was in control before she actually opened the door.

"Natasha." His familiar voice warmed her to her toes as she stepped back from him.

"Come in." Natasha held the door for Phil. Once she'd closed the door, she turned toward him and hugged -him. He sank into her embrace, his arms curling tightly across her back. "I'm still pissed at you," she whispered into his shoulder.

"I know." Phil didn't let go of her. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" she asked, knowing that he'd understand what she wanted clarified.

The agent's sigh came from deep inside his chest. "Fury's orders."

Natasha pushed him away, her expression angry. "You've disobeyed his orders before." She didn't let the hurt in her heart show.

"I know. And then I wasn't sure what had happened to me. And then I knew exactly what it was, and I didn't know how to tell you." Phil sank onto one of her bar stools, his long fingers resting on the marble. "I still don't."

"Just say it." Natasha crossed her arms, ready for anything.

He was quiet for a long moment. "I died. Fury used something called Project T.A.H.I.T.I. to bring me back." Phil stared at the swirls in the polished stone as if seeking some secret there.

The red headed assassin tightened her grip on herself, fear and anger rising. "I'm not familiar with that one."

"That's because I recommended to Fury that we never use it." He reached up and rubbed his face wearily. "All subjects brought back to life using the program, well, they went insane. The knowledge that they'd died drove them to various mental disorders, including aphasia and psychosis. The only measure that helped was memory alteration and suppression, and even that didn't work once the patient started to remember."

Natasha wasn't sure what to say. "That wasn't part of the upload to the internet, so I'll need to see whatever files you have."

"I don't have anything. No previous files, no studies, not even an ongoing analysis of my own biometrics." Phil's face was bleak. He pulled a thumb drive from his pocket. "All I have is my video report to Fury."

Natasha walked to his side and put her hands on his shoulder and arm. "We'll talk to Stark and Banner. We'll figure it out."

"You can say that," he told her, "but I saw the video of myself, telling Fury-"

She caught his face in her hands, pulling him up to look at her. "Stop it. You were the one who taught me to never give up. And then you went and _died_ on me."

Natasha hadn't meant to say the last. She didn't rescind it; it was truthful. He'd been the one who had been stabbed through the heart and left them behind. "I'm sorry." Phil's eyes were full of regret. "I tried to stay. Being stabbed in the heart . . ." He couldn't finish the joke. "I wish he'd told you."

"I wish you'd told me." Her thumbs rubbed his cheeks. "All that held me together was Barton. Then he betrayed us." Her voice became more accusing. "He was the one that told me you were alive."

Phil flinched at her words. "I'm sorry. I should have reached out to you."

"But you didn't."

"No." He tried to smile. "How many more times do I need to apologize for being completely wrong?"

"Keep going." Natasha slipped her hands down to his shoulders. "I'll let you know when you've said it enough." She left her fingers on his jacket for a moment, enjoying the feel of warmth that soaked through the fabric. Finally, she realized she was molesting his shoulders and she stepped back from him. "Have you had dinner?"

"Are you cooking?" he asked, his voice a bit too wary.

"I am." She shot him a challenging look. "Not all apologies are verbal."

He sighed and smiled, resigned. "I'd love to have you cook for me, Tasha."

"I know you would." She smirked at his expression, watching as he unbuttoned his coat and relaxed against the bar which looked into the kitchen. She pulled out ingredients, deciding that she could make a stir fry with minimal chance of destroying it. "So after dinner, I thought we could go talk to Banner. He's living in New Jersey." She stifled a chuckle as she remembered Bruce mentioning he couldn't make New Jersey worse. "Save Stark for tomorrow."

Phil hesitated. "Can we do both tomorrow?"

Natasha sliced long strips of pepper before glancing up. "Why wait?"

He sat a little straighter. "I'd rather focus on catching up with you."

Her fingers stilled in her cutting - only for a moment but they both saw it. Feeling exposed, Natasha picked up the pace again, setting aside the peppers for carrots. "How did you find out about Clint?" she asked softly.

"Maria." Phil exhaled suddenly and rose to his feet, stripping off his jacket. "Can I do something to help?" he asked, rolling up his sleeves. "I feel useless."

"You're my guest, you're supposed to be useless. But I hate cutting onions, so you can do that." Natasha pushed the red bulb at him, then fetched another cutting board and knife. "Just dice it. Can you do that?"

"Confirmed bachelor." His rakish grin reminded her that he wasn't always a mild-mannered SHIELD agent. "If I couldn't, I would have starved long ago."

"I thought you guys just did pizza and McDonalds," Natasha remarked. Despite her lack of optimism, he peeled the outer layers with familiarity.

"Not when you've just started a job in New York City." Phil's voice tinged with fond nostalgia as he began to chop the pungent root. "Most of my salary went to pay the rent on a studio apartment in the Bronx above a butcher's shop. I decided to learn to cook for myself once I grew tired of ramen and hotdogs."

It was strange to think of Phil as a young man, struggling to make ends meet. Natasha's lips curling upward slightly as she studied him in a new light. "You never told me that before."

"I was your superior before." He looked at her with a frank gaze. "Now, there is no SHIELD." His assessment of the situation was startling. "We're peers, agreeing to work on something together - or not. I can't give you orders anymore."

Natasha swept the cut carrots into a pile as his words sunk in. There was a question she'd been dying to ask him for years - did she dare now? "I want some wine," she said, feeling breathless. "Would you like some?"

His eyes seemed knowing to her as he nodded. "I would." She was projecting her thoughts onto him. He'd so often had the answers that it seemed odd to her that he wouldn't know everything now.

Natasha poured two glasses of the first blush she found in her fridge. For good measure, she pulled out the terrible red she used to cook with, setting it on the counter. "Do you need the chicken sliced?" Phil asked as she handed him his glass. "Thanks."

"Yeah, you do the chicken, I'll do the beef." She took a deep drink of her wine, watching him covertly as he opened the package of pale meat and started to trim it. To pass the time, she started to cook the baby kale leaves with a splash of the cooking wine. She caught his doubtful expression when he saw the leaves but he said nothing.

She waited until he took a drink before she asked, "Is that why you said no, after Budapest? Because you were my superior?"

His knife slowed until he just set it aside and looked up at her. Natasha could see the older man weighing what to tell her. "Yes and no. It was a part of it. You were also eighteen. It felt- I personally would have felt wrong to have sex with you. Then add in that you'd just come from your old organization, who had been using you since you were a child, and I felt that would be taking advantage."

She had one answer; time to see if she could get another. He'd started to cut again when she asked, "So why did you turn Clint down?"

"He hadn't shown an interest in me until you were there." Phil grimaced slightly and said, "It felt like he was using you to get to me. Like he didn't want to have sex with me because he wanted it - he wanted to for another reason. I guess at least I know why now - he wanted some hooks in me. Some leverage."

Natasha slowly nodded. That one statement from him clarified _a lot_ of questions she had, particularly when you combined them with the knowledge that Clint had been HYDRA all along. Thoughts of Clint drew up another unpleasant thought. "Phil, I don't know if anyone had told you but… Loki's on Earth."

He froze, his expression becoming alarmed. "Where?"

"He was in Stark's custody but Clint broke him out three months ago." Natasha watched as Phil drained his wine glass. Without him asking, she refilled it. "He shot Loki in the eye, too, so we doubt he's working for HYDRA. I know that Tony's hopeful that Clint tortured him to death."

Phil shook his head. "Garrett wouldn't waste an asset like that. He'd find a way to use it."

"Assuming Clint is sharing." Natasha knew her words were based on hope, not reality. The break-in had been done by a team, not one man. Phil seemed to know that without asking. He took another drink of his wine and went back to cutting the meat, his motions too sharp.

When he was done with the pile, he finally spoke. "I really thought he'd be left on Asgard. I didn't think I'd have to face him again."

"It was a political maneuver." Natasha moved around the counter and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. He won't hurt you again."

"I know. The odds of us meeting again are small. I'm still… he _killed_ me, Tasha." He stopped cutting and a tic twisted the right side of his face. He didn't seem to notice; he held up his hands, which were shaking.

Natasha slipped her hands over his face again. He looked at her with eyes full of confusion and fear, and she leaned in and kissed him. For a second, she thought he might reject her but his arms curled around her waist and pulled her closer, and he began to return the kiss, opening his mouth to hers.

She kissed him until his tremors were gone; lifting her head, she enjoyed the hungry, dazed look his eyes. "Your salad's going to burn," he murmured to her.

"Let me worry about my salad." She kissed him again, just because she could. "Kale has to cook for a while to soften."

"Kale?" He took another look at the green leaves in the wok. "Does that taste . . . good?"

She turned his face back to hers and pressed a finger to his lips. "It will. No more doubts."

Hesitantly, he pursed his lips and kissed her finger. His words were sure as he spoke. "I never doubt you, Tasha."

"Flatterer." She smiled at him and went to stir the kale before it did burn.

He picked up the knife and finished cutting the chicken, then sat back on the stool and watched her add the other ingredients to the pan. "Is it too soon to ask what you're doing here?" Phil's question was asked softly.

"I'm making dinner for you," she told him flippantly, despite knowing what he was asking.

He sighed with bemused exasperation. "Tasha, what do you want from me? Why are you seducing me?"

"You don't want me to?" Natasha asked playfully, confident that he truly did.

"I want to know what your end game is." He rose and took another drink of wine. Then, very deliberately, he loosed his tie and opened his collar button.

Natasha remembered the last time she'd done that to him, the time she thought she'd finally caught him. She'd told him how much she'd enjoyed seeing him so casual yet still in the armor of his position, his sleeves rolled up and that V of throat revealed. That he'd remembered her words from all those years ago made her heart race a little more. She batted her eyes at him. "What will you give me for that information?"

Phil smirked a little. "Agent Romanov, are you trying to barter intel from me?"

She gazed at him coyly. "Of course."

"Okay," he replied as she set aside the vegetables and started to cook the meat, "what information do you want me to reveal?"

"What do you want from me?" she asked directly.

She'd thought he might have to think about it, or pretend to think about it. Instead, he locked blue eyes with her and said, "Everything."

A shiver ran through her at his declaration. "So… my lease?" she asked drily.

Phil didn't crack a smile. "Everything that matters." When she didn't have a smart ass answer to that, he murmured, "Your turn."

There were times to play dumb or dance around the truth. There were times to be honest, and Natasha had a gift for knowing when to do each. Right now, she knew that Phil had been sincere with her, and she could do no less in return, despite the fears anyone had when they opened up to another person. "I think you're a good man, one of the few. I thought I'd lost you once. Now that you're here, I don't want to miss a chance at something good again."

Phil frowned, rubbing his thumbs over the edge of the counter. "You know… I may not be here long."

Natasha met his eyes. "If you're gone tomorrow, then I have to make the most of tonight, won't I?"

He drew in a deep breath. "Are you sure? The list included the word 'psychotic'."

"Phil." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Shut up and set the table."

He had to smile. "Yes, Tasha."

"Now that's what I like to hear," she joked, slapping his ass when he slipped past her.

He jumped and laughed in surprise, putting his arms around her shoulders from behind. "You are going to pay for that," he promised, his breath a hot whisper in her ear.

"Get used to it. There'll be more," she threatened with a grin, "a lot more. For now, I want a kiss. I want _you_ to kiss _me._" She wanted him to stop hesitating and start seizing life, joy, and happiness. And her - she definitely wanted him to show how much he wanted her.

He turned her in his arms and looped his arms around her waist. "I'm not really sure this is happening," he murmured.

"I can pinch you." She nosed his chin gently. "I will, if you don't kiss me."

He smiled faintly then pressed his lips to hers. It was a sweet kiss; when she tried to take control, he resisted her pressure. His intent was clear - this was his kiss and he was in charge in this moment. While it was gentle, he kissed her until they both needed air, then followed it up with a second, quick peck on her mouth. "Salad's gonna burn," Phil advised when he lifted his head.

"I have the salad. You set the table." They each went to their own tasks; Phil fumbled around the cabinets until he found all the plates and utensils, while Natasha added the sauce and put it in a fancy bowl. She usually didn't bother but tonight was different.

Despite the effort they put into a nice meal, neither one of them really noticed the food. Dinner had become an obstacle, a necessary stop before the next event of the evening. Neither of them had seconds, and no one bothered to put up the extra. Phil did take the dishes into the kitchen, and while he did that, Natasha put on some music and dimmed her lights.

Phil followed her into the living room, the refilled wine glasses in his hands. "I appreciate this but you really don't have to try so hard."

"I _want_ to seduce you right." Natasha looked over her shoulder at him, grinning coyly. "Lights, music, wine. There's a way things are done, Phil."

"You're not leaving me much to seduce you with," he told her with a smile, offering her glass.

"You're innovative. I'm sure you'll come up with something." She took a drink before setting aside her glass. Natasha studied him for a moment in the dim light, seeing the character and marks placed on his body by time.

"Reconsidering?" he asked softly, his voice empty of emotion.

"No. Watching." The red-haired woman stepped forward and pressed her hands to his chest. His free hand curled around her waist lightly. "Studying. Learning."

He set his glass next to hers and ran his fingers through her hair. Natasha tipped her head up expectantly, the rise of her eyebrows making her impatience clear. His fingers rested against the back of her neck as he kissed her.

As he firmly kissed her, she attacked his tie. It gave her immense satisfaction to pull the end loose from the knot, and she did it in leisurely movements. His lips were also diverting her from what her fingers were doing, so some of her slowness was actually distraction. The line of buttons down his chest were next, revealing the white t-shirt he wore. At the waistband of his pants, his arms tightened as she pulled the tongue of his belt free.

A quick flick of her fingers and his belt hung open, leaving his pants loose enough to pull out the collared shirt. Natasha slipped her hands over his shoulders and swept his overshirt off of them. She took control of his arms long enough to clear the garment from him completely.

She felt his thumbs wiggle up under her shirt, coming to rest on the skin of her waist. She shivered as the sensations wavered between ticklish and erotic. His hands lingered on her waist for so long she thought she might need to take off her own shirt but then he started to ease higher.

Her phone rang.

"I'm going to kill Stark." Natasha rested her head on Phil's shoulder.

Phil sighed deeply enough to bob her head. "Do you have to answer it?"

"Yeah. I should at least check with him, make sure Manhattan isn't on fire or anything." She didn't move for another second; when she finally consented to answer the phone, she slipped her hand into Phil's and dragged him to the ringing device. "Romanov."

"Most boring greeting ever. I know who you are." Stark sounded both jovial and stressed. "Where are you, right now?"

"Home." Natasha smiled at Phil and kissed a knuckle. He lifted her hand and nibbled on her thumb, the gentle pressure of his teeth sending flurries of sensation down to her toes. "What do you want?"

"You're touchy. Got a date?" he asked.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "What if I do?"

"Kiss her goodnight and get down to headquarters. Is it a her? I'd prefer it be a her." Tony deviated from the matter at hand to try to create some mental porn movies.

Natasha fought not to grind her teeth together; not about being teased by Tony - that was just par for the course. It was the interruption to her date. She glanced at Phil, who shrugged ruefully and mouthed, _It's okay._

It actually wasn't okay but Natasha didn't see a way around it. "What's going on?" Maybe Stark was overreacting.

"Not over the phone." Stark's refusal was unsettling given that this phone was heavily encrypted.

"A hint?" she coaxed.

Stark's voice grew serious. "Two heads are cropping up."

_HYDRA_. "We're coming in." As she hung up, she could hear Stark asking, "We?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Aren't you dead? I'm pretty sure you're dead." Stark stared hard at Phil when the elevator opened and he exited with Natasha.

The red headed assassin looked at Phil quickly, searching his face for that tic again. She watched her almost-lover twitch once and then visibly, painfully, pull himself together.

"The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated." Phil put his hands in his pocket and stood straight; only Natasha suspected the effort it took him to remain calm in the face of Stark's anger.

"We don't have time for that." Steve did have time for disapproval and an unhappy glance but he moved past that shortly. Offering a hand to Phil, he said, "Good to see you back in the land of the living."

"Thanks." Phil smiled much more widely at Steve's acceptance and eagerly shook hands. Dr. Banner simply shook his hand, his smile saying it all.

"What do we have?" Natasha asked briskly, aware of Phil's position in the room like an itch she couldn't scratch.

"You and Phil on a date, apparently," Stark said without missing a beat.

"HYDRA just raided an orphanage in rural China, taking all of the girls aged four to six." Bruce overrode Stark's implied question.

Phil glanced at her but said nothing and Natasha was grateful. That age range cut a little close to home, and Tony finished the emotional attack.

"And some cell footage put one Konstantin Volkov at the orphanage, hand-selecting the girls." Stark was watching her closely as he spoke; Natasha refused to give him the reaction he was seeking.

"Who's that?" Bruce asked, sensing that the question was important.

"Last known director of the Red Room Academy, Russia's premier spy school." Phil answered without looking at Natasha as obviously as Tony had, but she knew he was keeping an eye on her.

"He's getting new students. It'll be a decade or more before we see them again, but those girls will be a new generation of spies." Natasha kept her voice even despite the anger surging in her. Her childhood and life had been stolen from her by Volkov - she wasn't ready to let that happen to more little girls.

"Then it's a good thing I've had eyes on them since it happened." Stark gave everyone a smug smile. "The question is, what do we go about it? Do we make it a full frontal or a sneakier attack?"

"Sneakier." Phil offered the advice immediately. "Volkov will threaten and kill hostages."

"Are you allowed to make comments?" Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "I think people who pretend to be dead aren't allowed to play with the big boys anymore."

"I didn't pretend to be dead." Phil took a deep breath and said, "I died. Fury has a few tricks up his sleeve. I originally came here to see if you could help me with the side effects. But I think we have a bigger problem to deal with right now."

"Actually, the Red Room issue can wait." Bruce held up hands to fend off Natasha's angry glare. "It can. They aren't going to hurt those girls right now. They're probably still transporting them."

"When that's done, they'll start breaking them down. Immediately." Natasha spoke softly but the intensity in her voice made up for volume. "We have until they are done transporting them to find and rescue them."

"Fine, while you guys do that, I'll run some tests-" The sudden alarm broke off Bruce's words and stopped the gesture he'd been making toward Phil.

"JARVIS?" Tony asked.

The calm, electronic voice of Tony's butler filled the air. "Sir, there is another pressing issue, one which may require you, Dr. Banner, and Captain America to intercede. A cruise ship is starting to take on water and they are having issues with the lifeboats. They indicate that there will be loss of life."

"Then I'll get my team and Natasha and I can handle the Red Room." Phil spoke into the silence after JARVIS's announcement.

"I thought _we _were your team." Stark mimed wiping away a tear. "I'm hurt to find out you were cheating on us with another."

"I was assigned a new team by Fury." Phil smiled slightly. "Nothing personal."

"It feels personal." Tony waved the words away a moment later. "Right. So Cap, the Green Machine, and I will go deal with the cruise ship and leave you and Lazarus-"

"Stop it." Phil shivered. "I know that you joke to deal, Stark, but stop it. My death and the reversal of that state are _not_ grist for your humor mill. Understood?"

Natasha saw that ghost of a tic pass through him again but it abated more quickly this time. Tony narrowed his eyes at Phil but Natasha interrupted before he could press her almost-lover. "Call your team, Phil. Do you have a jet?"

"Yes." He sounded vaguely annoyed, as if he didn't like the plane.

Steve nodded. "Tony, can you give them access to the tower so they can continue to use the resources?"

"If they say please." Despite his words, Tony was already making the changes to the system with quick motions of his fingers. "Though only Phil and Natasha can access it. The junior varsity squad will have to deal with standard guest access."

"Which means?" Natasha asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Bathrooms, cafeteria, main areas, and basic internet." Tony smirked. "No parties while the adults are away."

Phil had changed overnight. Skye smiled to see the changes in him. He moved with more confidence than he had before, and watching him work with Natasha was just cute. He clearly cared deeply for her, smiling at her for no reason other than to smile. If only their situation was less dire.

"Alright, JARVIS still has eyes on the HYDRA goons who grabbed the girls, and they've been heading for the South Indian Ocean." Phil was in his tactical gear, his sleeves rolled up, which meant they had a serious mission. "There are approximately thirty young Chinese girls, ages three to five, loaded on a modified B-52. We can catch them since they are significantly slower than us."

"We don't know how many hostiles are on the plane." The Black Widow turned to face them, her face set in strong lines. Skye found her intimidating and wanted to be just like her, all at the same time. "We know that they will kill the hostages. These girls mean nothing to them. They're untrained, raw recruits, of little value to them. If necessary, they'll dump them and get more."

"So priority one is getting the girls." Triplett didn't seem awed by Natasha. Of course, his grandfather had been a Howling Commando - perhaps he'd met SHIELD's big guns before.

"Absolutely. We also want to capture Valkov. If they have him, they'll just try again." Phil looked around the room at each member of his team to be sure they understood. "The plan is to follow the plane's path, based on the data from Stark's satellite. Once it sets down, we'll hit it, rescue the children, and capture Volkov and his associates."

"We have to be fast." Natasha gestured to the weapons on the table. "If you go into the firefight, you can't hesitate. Shoot anything taller than three feet."

"You don't have to worry about killing," Fitz said quickly. "We have the sleepytime gun."

Natasha's glance at him said he was clearly a cute kid. Fitz flushed a touch, as one of the people who _was_ intimidated by the Black Widow. Simmons came to his rescue, naturally. "Some of us aren't comfortable killing, Agent Romanov."

"I know." She smiled but it wasn't a happy expression. "That's what Agent May and I are there for."

"Questions?" Phil brought the meeting back on track. When there were none, he said, "Everyone is dismissed. Try to rest while we wait."

Skye watched people disperse, knowing where most of them would go. Fitz-Simmons would probably return to the lab and tinker on something while claiming that was resting. Trip would probably take a nap; he had the easiest time convincing his body to relax. May was piloting the jet. Phil would either join her or review the mission parameters again. He never stopped working before a mission, and it somehow never affected him.

Natasha was the one that Skye didn't know, so instead of heading to her own space to do some light reading on her various blogs, she pretended to review the maps Coulson had laid out again.

"I see your tie is loosened." Natasha had spoken so softly that Skye almost didn't hear it.

She saw Phil glance at her but she kept her attention squarely on the screen in front of her, using her finger to trace the plane's projected paths. "I thought you might enjoy that," he murmured.

"Tease." Natasha sounded less like the intimidating Black Widow and more like a woman flirting with a man, and Skye stifled a smile. "You'll pay for that."

Phil's voice warmed and Skye flushed at the heat in his words. "I hope so."

In a normal voice, Natasha said, "I'm going to the cockpit to talk to Melinda for a moment."

Phil nodded to her, and Skye thought she saw their hands briefly tangle together before parting. "Skye?" Her name made her jump and she turned to Phil, hoping she didn't have a guilty look on her face. "Did you have a question?"

"Yeah." Thinking quickly to cover her eavesdropping, she pointed at the potential landing zone for the plane. "Do you know the terrain here?"

"I was going to cover that when we knew exactly where they were putting down, but that island is pretty much the rum island in _Pirates of the Caribbean._" Phil went on to elaborate more, but Skye was too busy thinking about how frickin' _cute_ he and Natasha were together to really pay attention.


	14. Chapter 14

The plane landed on the airstrip as warm wind ruffled Logan's clothing. He watched the flying carrier roll itself to a stop and the rear hatch lower. "C'mon," Grant said sourly, hopping off the jeep hood he'd been sitting on. "Let's get this over with."

Grant liked this duty about as much as Logan did. The super-soldier didn't enjoy the sick feeling in his gut as he followed Grant to the plane. He joined HYDRA to stop this kind of injustice, not perpetuate it. As Garrett had said: until the world had been liberated and order set in place, horrors such as the Red Room Academy would have to be suffered.

The girls were being herded off of the plane. The crying children huddled together like sheep and Logan glanced away. He caught Grant staring at the girls with muted horror. _This mission is going to suck._

"Get 'em in motion!" Barton's shout made the girls flinch, though even Logan could tell his harshness was because of the mission. He was an asshole, not a sadist.

Ricochet was the one enjoying herself, stepping toward the girls with a smile. Logan had already figured out her mean streak; he'd seen it the first day. She was a bully, just like his brother Thomas and his father.

Volkov herded the girls down the ramp with the help of HYDRA soldiers. "Is everything ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Barton said, stepping forward. "We have the transport ready to go."

Logan's eye fell on one of the girls. She was tiny but had the stance of a child, not a toddler. Her huge eyes overflowed with endless tears but she didn't make a single noise. There was a plea in her brown orbs, a silent request for clemency. He pulled his eyes away, hating this assignment. Of course, their real mission wasn't the children. The children and Volkov were just the bait in a bigger trap.

The roar of a plane overhead brought a smirk to Barton's face. "Right on time."

"We knew he couldn't pass up this treat," Ricochet laughed. Logan's lips twisted at her use of the word 'treat' to describe the children. She pulled her face mask into place, becoming one more HYDRA trooper. Logan, Barton, and Grant followed her lead.

Without being told, Logan moved closer to the children. He couldn't help his sense of protectiveness toward them; he'd always had a soft spot toward the weaker members of his race. It was why he'd joined HYDRA.

The plane banked sharply and straightened, coming low over the water. The soldiers watched as black forms dropped from the plane into the water. "Get the kids inside!" Logan shouted to Grant, who exchanged a nod with him. This beach was about to become a warzone.

"Volkov, move." Barton gave the Russian scientist a push and then followed Ricochet in taking cover. The Russian ran ahead, plowing aside children in his haste. Logan didn't need to see Grant's face to know he was disgusted with the other man.

"Move, girls." Grant started in English, then attempted Manadrain. They'd learned how to say 'move' and 'that way' in anticipation of today. The girls were more than happy to run for the concrete bunker rising out of the sand, following the path Volkov was making. "Take point," he told Logan over the radio.

Logan quickly reached the first girl, and he had the first row seat when Natasha Romanov appeared at the top the bunker, her guns in hand. For a second, her appearance threw him for a loop; he had a mental flash of her standing on the other side of a glass wall, smiling like a fox. Then the moment was gone, shattered as she shot Volkov in the chest. That alone would not have killed him - Volkov was wearing a vest under his coat - but she placed her next three shots in his head. Logan lifted his gun to shoot her, and to his shock, found that she was already pointing her gun at him.

The three shots were centered neatly on his chest and their force knocked him to the ground. Growling, he rolled to his feet, ignoring the burn in his bruised muscles. He came up aiming at her but she was already gone.

A blue bolt snapped out of the underbrush and caught him in the gut. For a moment, Logan was disabled, his body nonresponsive. _Grant talked about this. The gun that knocks people unconscious. _Another bolt snapped over his head, over the children. _Grant. That was for Grant._ He couldn't move yet, to see if Grant had escaped.

A young man stepped out of the bushes, the sleep gun clutched in his hand. He gave Logan a kick to see if he was down, and Logan didn't try to grab for him. He wasn't sure he could move yet so he waited until he knew he could - waited until he was sure of his ability to take the boy out cleanly.

Then he saw the real enemy: Phil Coulson followed the young man from the cover, stalking across the sand. He stepped right over Logan but again, the other man didn't try to grab him. He could clinch one fist tightly now but he couldn't bend his elbow. Cursing silently, he worked on moving his body. He had to get up and save his compatriots.

More gunfire from the beach nearly drove him mad with a desire to _see_ what was happening. He turned his head, hoping that no one was looking at him when he did it. Batroc and his men were storming the beach, as planned. It was the Avengers who were screwing up their plan.

No one was watching him, and with a groan, Logan rolled onto his stomach. His arms didn't like it but they did work when he pried off his helmet. The fresh air helped and he positioned his gun against his shoulder and aimed. He didn't trust himself enough to shoot yet, especially since his vision was going double occasionally. Grant was sprawled in the sand but worse was Clint and Ricochet - they were pinned down by Batroc's forces and Coulson's team.

_At least Iron Man or the Captain isn't here._ Both of them would be dealing with the cruise ship problem that Garrett had arranged. Logan remained on his stomach for now, thinking. To his left, most of Coulson's people were focusing on the girls, herding them back through the trees. Romanov and Coulson were shooting at Barton and Ricochet.

The two experienced agents were more dangerous and Logan shifted his focus to them. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, pleased that everything was working, albeit slowly. Staggering, he got to his feet and ran to the treeline, sagging against the rough bark of a palm tree with a grunt.

That maneuver left Logan only a hundred feet away from Coulson and Romanov, with their backs to him. It was the best place to be yet he wasn't happy. He could easily shoot them, and he was solely tempted to do so. He knew Garrett wanted them taken prisoner. Logan agreed with Barton on this matter: Romanov was one of the most dangerous people in the world and Coulson had a tendency to upset the best HYDRA plans.

Still, Logan obeyed orders, despite that rebellious stirring he felt in his gut. Part of him didn't want to obey the orders and he wasn't sure why. He stifled those questions; now was not the time.

He slowed to a fast walk as he neared them, his boots muffled by the sand. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled out the taser. With Romanov's improved physique, that wouldn't stop her. It should take Coulson down and Logan knew that he could beat Romanov in hand-to-hand.

Logan was almost there when Romanov spun on him. He was sure he hadn't made a noise but she'd spotted him somehow. He saw a flicker of horror cross her face but that didn't slow her kick to his head. He blocked the blow easily and prepared to trap her foot.

A gun fired and the bullet punched him in the chest. Even through his body armor, it stung like hell but it didn't slow him down. The shooter, Coulson, looked at him over the barrel and Logan saw that same reaction of horror as Romanov had given, only magnified.

"_You're gonna lose." The gasping breath of a dying man._

_Arrogance swelled in his heart and he felt a cruel grin stretch his face. "Am I?"_

"_It's in your nature."_

_Black humor joined the arrogance - this worm of a mortal was trying to shake him. "Your heroes are scattered. Your flying fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"_

_Mortal eyes filled with pure belief. "You lack conviction."_

Logan came back to himself kneeling in the sand. _That was a visual trigger_, he told himself as he tried to pull his thoughts back together. Coulson stared at him, frozen, gun shaking. Romanov had a gun to the side of his head, screaming for him to surrender.

She was calling him Loki. She was trying to reinforce the brainwashing.

Logan rose in a rush, twisting her gun away and slamming his palm into her chin. Her head snapped back too hard and she flew backwards into a palm tree. _Christ, Garrett will kill me if I kill her,_ he thought, taking half a step toward her.

Someone slammed into him: Coulson. The man couldn't match him physically but he had gotten the jump on Logan. They dropped into the sand together, Coulson's face twisted with fury as he wrapped his hands around Logan's throat. From his perch on top of the other man, Coulson had the leverage to squeeze viciously. "You stay the _fuck_ away from her!" he hissed at Logan.

It should have been easy to sweep Coulson off of him but when Logan tried to push him off, the man somehow found the strength to remain on top of him, throttling him. He was even cutting off Logan's air which was remarkable - not life-threatening to the super-soldier but impressive nonetheless.

Logan bucked his hips against the other man, angling the blow to the right. At the same time, he yanked down on the edge of Coulson's armor and rolled the man off of him. A continuation of that roll put him on top and he reared back against the agent's grip. It took more strength than it should have to break the vise of fingers around his throat given that Coulson was a mere man.

Romanov groaned softly and stirred; Coulson and Logan both glanced at her. Logan was a little amused at the twin relief on their faces but Coulson cared for her more and so Logan recovered first. When Coulson turned his gaze and attention back to the fight, Logan ended it with a tap on his jaw. Granted, a 'tap' from the closed fist of a super soldier still left the man insensible in the sand but Logan couldn't get much gentler than that.

Quickly, he flipped Coulson onto his face and used a zip tie to bind his arms, then moved to Romanov. She stirred again, pushing herself up so she was half sitting, so he pulled her arms behind her. Just as he was reaching for a tie, the woman somehow braced one foot in the sand and shoved against him. Her shoulders rocked back into his chest while her other knee curled up and caught him in the eye. The ease with which she completed the inhuman movement was the most surprising; Logan had known cats that were less flexible than her.

He reeled back but kept his grip on her wrists. His eye was starting to throb; he'd be bruised for a few minutes. She twisted somehow and kicked him in the shoulders with both feet, and he had an inkling of why Barton was so obsessed with her.

Logan pulled on her arms, sliding them under one knee and pinning them. She ended up with her weight on her shoulders and her back pressed against his legs. Her knees curled forward, probably to kick him again, and he caught her by the ankle. "Don't make me break all your arms and legs to capture you, Romanov."

He felt her surrender as the tension left her muscles before she choked, "Fine."

Logan eased her onto the sand and bound her hands like he had with Coulson. As an added determent to her escape, he bound her feet, and then lashed both ties to a grenade. "The pin will pull if you move your arms and legs apart," he informed her as he rose from his crouch. He felt the urge to stroke her face and shook it off with effort.

"Understood." She didn't look afraid, just determined. He had no doubt that she'd try to escape the second his back was turned. His little puzzle should keep her busy for the few minutes it would take to secure Batroc.

As it turned out, he didn't even need that long. By the time he'd jogged out of the stand of trees, Ricochet and Barton stood proudly over their prisoner. Batroc looked angry yet resigned; it certainly wasn't the first time he'd been nabbed. "Where were you?" Barton smirked at him. "Decide to get in a little nap with Grant?"

Logan glanced over to see Garrett and McCulloch reviving Grant. Normally, Barton's remark would have pissed him off but instead it was the perfect opening for Logan. "Actually, I was busy fighting SHIELD."

"You mean the ones that got away with the kids and killed Volkov?" Barton shot back.

Ricochet sidled up to Logan, reaching for his face. "Are you hurt?"

He dodged her hand, particularly since she'd been going for his eye. He didn't like people touching his eyes. "I will be fine. My prisoners should be, too."

"Prisoners?" Garrett asked, turning toward their group with interest in his eyes. Barton took in the growing smirk on Logan's face, and the archer's eyes narrowed as his lips pressed into a straight line.

"Yes. SHIELD prisoners. Coulson _and_ Black Widow." Logan smiled widely. "I expect a bonus for Christmas, John."

Garrett's face split in a wide grin. "Forget Christmas, Logan. You're getting a bonus now!"

The venomous look from Barton made it all worth it.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorite this story. You have no idea how good they make me feel when I see a new one. I wanted to give a quick shout out to Beverlie4055 – you have left a review on most of the chapters and deserve a special thank you!

They were on an operations plane stolen from SHIELD; Natasha had seen that much before they'd shoved her up the ramp and into this holding room. She sat stiffly in her seat, thinking about possible avenues of escape.

The door opened and Hawkeye entered. Physically he hadn't changed with the same handsome face and toned body. She didn't find it appealing anymore. She waited tersely, watching Clint's every move. To her surprise, she wasn't crippled with pain; she burned with anger. He'd pretended to be her friend for years - her _best_ friend. She'd told him things she'd never shared with anyone else. He had unparalleled knowledge of her while all she knew about him was his persona.

_No, that's not true. No one can hide themselves completely. You have pieces of the real Clint. Find them and use them. _She relaxed fractionally and sat back, crossing her legs. The chains of her arm restraints slid across the metal table, stopped by the loop in the middle of the structure.

His masculine chuckle shattered the silence in the room. "You just decided to play me, didn't you?" Clint asked, running his fingers over the seam of table.

Natasha smiled. "You know me so well. And you know that knowledge of being played-"

"Doesn't stop me from being played. I know." He returned her smile and for a heart wrenching moment, he was her friend Clint again. "I just wanted to see you. To talk to you."

"What did you do to Loki?" she asked, trying to pry at him.

Barton made a face and Natasha realized she'd scored some kind of hit on him. "What is it with you redheads and that asshole?"

"Ricochet doesn't want to be your best friend?" Natasha shook her head, her long red hair following the motion. "She's a rather poor replacement for me, anyway."

Clint visibly restrained his anger, his fingers pressing into the table. "Sure you don't want to join us?"

Natasha didn't hide her disappointment at the question. "Join HYDRA? Those are the exact people _you_ convinced me to fight."

"No, they're the people that you should be helping." He shook his head. "They're trying to bring order to the world."

"No, they're trying to bring stasis to the world." Natasha tilted her head, keeping the demeanor of two people having a friendly if intense debate. "I'm Russian - I know the difference between order and control."

Clint leaned forward. "It would go better for you if you switched sides."

Natasha laughed softly. "Clint, I'm going to a cell no matter what. They'll never trust me."

"You'll have a lot nicer cell," Clint promised. His fingers moved marginally closer. "Maybe some visitors."

"Oh, I'll have visitors in the not-nice cell, too." Natasha smirked knowingly. "At least there I'll be able to live with myself."

Clint sighed heavily, his fingers retracting. "You've got it wrong, Tasha. HYDRA isn't the bad guy here."

"So you keep saying yet the evidence mounts." She met his gaze unflinchingly. "You employ tactics such as the ones used on Dethlok, and don't forget that you have one of the worst threats to humanity on your payroll."

"He came from SHIELD's house," Clint replied easily.

"The Avengers', actually, and we were keeping him in a cell." Her eyes narrowed. "How'd you get him to agree to work with you after what you did to him?"

Clint smirked and sat back, tucking his hands behind his head. "Does it burn you that I managed to get Loki to sign the dotted line and you didn't?"

"I don't think you got him to sign up for this," Natasha shot back. "He was wearing human clothing instead of Asgardian, and I noticed that he had a lack of magical know-how." The corner of Clint's mouth twitched, a sure tell he was struggling with a comeback that wouldn't reveal his real purpose, so she took a shot in the dark. "He didn't seem himself at all - very on-task for a being as chaotic and mad as Loki. I've seen HYDRA do that before, to a greater extreme. Steve's going to be pissed that HYDRA is still using the Winter Soldier protocols on people, and I don't want to be in the blast zone when Thor catches up to you." Clint swallowed nervously and Natasha leaned forward. "That's nothing compared to what Loki will do when he breaks free."

McCulloch opened the door suddenly, saving Clint from a response. "Barton, Garrett wants you."

_Yes, run off before you give me more information._ Natasha was pleased with what she'd managed to get so far. She gave Clint a cat-with-the-cream smile, enjoying the effort he took to suppress his answering grimace. "Oh, and Clint?"

Her words caught him mid-rise and he leaned against the table rather than walking away. "Tasha?"

She shook loose the object hidden in her glove, dropping it into her other hand. She'd hid it there before they'd had a chance to search her for weapons. Leaning forward, she held her hand in a position to drop what was in it and Clint instinctively moved to catch it. The silver chain with its telltale arrow fell into his glove. "I don't need this anymore."

His eyes widened and he looked at her, meeting her gaze. Natasha was a little surprised by the genuine hurt she saw in him. She knew what he hadn't said when he'd given it to her and she'd said the same in accepting it. Now that statement of affection had been severed. "Even if you give it to the woman you make me be," she said evenly, "you'll know that I didn't want it." _That I didn't want you._

Clint's fingers tightened around the former gift. Straightening, he stalked out but McCulloch hovered in the doorway. His gaze raked from the top of her head to her feet, lingering on her breasts for a long moment. "If you get lonely, Red, let me know." He pursed his lips at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Spare me the awkward come-ons, McCulloch. I've seen your work. There's no way I'm letting you near me willingly."

"And that'll make it all the sweeter when Garrett gives ya to me anyway." The man's eyes traveled up and down her body but this time the creepy gaze wasn't sexual. He was measuring her for his operating table and Natasha felt the hair on her arms rise. She remembered the surgeries he'd done that had landed him on SHIELD's radar.

She had to get Phil and herself out of here, immediately. They could come back for Loki later.

When Phil opened his eyes, he immediately wished he could close them and lapse into unconsciousness. "John Garrett," he said, checking to see if he could sit up. His arms were restrained and the band around his chest stopped vertical movement. Through the bed, he could feel a familiar vibration: they were on the Bus. _I've missed you, old gal._

"Phil Coulson." To his surprise, Garrett rose and adjusted the bed so that Phil was sitting. He was suspicious of this; psychologically, he'd be at a disadvantage if flat on his back. "Now that we've established that we know each other's names, I have a question for you."

"No, I won't join HYDRA." Phil didn't have to be Natasha to figure that one out. Thoughts of her ignited a panic in his guts but he ignored it. Giving into fear wouldn't help her.

"Not even to save Agent Romanov from torture?" Garrett asked, an eyebrow rising.

Phil laughed. "You don't know her very well if you think Agent Romanov would appreciate a gesture like that. I've never met anyone more capable of defending herself." It was part of why he loved her.

He wondered if they'd live long enough for him to tell her that.

Garrett shrugged. "I had to try."

"You didn't actually." Phil stared at him, wondering why he never saw this side of the man.

That drew a laugh out of the turncoat. "Well, shit. I was hoping you'd come over willingly. It makes for a better supervisor-subordinate relationship."

Phil narrowed his eyes. "Why are you trolling through your prisoners for recruits?"

"You should feel honored. It's all because you guys are really good at your jobs." Garrett smiled bitterly. "I need good people. Already trained elite people are at the top of my 'to-get' list."

"We won't work for you." Phil left no room for hesitation or doubt in his statement.

"_You_ won't. Your bodies and skills are another matter." Garrett's smile had turned gruesome.

His intent was easy to guess after seeing Loki in action. Fighting down a surge of panic at the idea of being rewritten and forced to work for HYDRA, Phil smiled as confidently as he could manage. He wasn't sure that it was working but he had to try. "You know that familiar settings and people tend to break down brainwashing rather quickly."

"Oh, you and the Black Widow won't be working with or for us. You'll be working for another cell in HYDRA, separate cells. You'll be kept away from Logan, too." Garrett smiled grimly. "Just to be safe."

Phil made a grimace of disbelief. "I don't know if it's accurate to use the word 'safe' when dealing with someone like Loki."

"You have to take risks." Garrett sounded like a man discussing a tricky merger instead of a man talking about the god-like being he was deceiving. "Especially in our business."

You took risks, yes, but they were balanced with payouts. You didn't take risks because they were there. Phil's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning, John?"

He didn't expect one and wasn't disappointed when Garrett merely smiled at him. "You'll be briefed on that later. After your procedure."

Chills cascaded down Phil's spine. "You are going to be sorry you did this," he warned the HYDRA agent.

John grinned at him, and the smirk said it all: _I know you need to put up a big front. It's okay. I understand._ John simply said, "Have a good night's sleep, Phil. You're going to need your rest tomorrow."


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the delay in posting. I've been busy lately with work and projects. I'll try to post no less than once a week here on out.

And for those wondering, about 40% of the story has been posted to date.

Logan sat uncomfortably in the meeting, watching his fellow agents. "Caverly hasn't done anything for us recently," Barton argued, flipping an arrowhead up into the air and catching it idly. "Why should he get her?"

"You've argued against every single one of our placements for Black Widow." Ricochet's smile suggested that he was a schoolboy with a crush.

Her attitude clearly pissed off the archer but he didn't argue against her statement. "Natasha is a valuable asset, so we need to assign her to a cell that deserves her."

Logan realized his fingers were pressing into the varnished tabletop. With effort, he stopped before he damaged the furniture or someone noticed. They were talking about rewriting people's personalities and giving them away to the highest bidder - or as Barton argued, the one who most deserved them.

"I do like the idea of bids more." McCulloch grinned widely. "Make a bit of profit for our cell."

"They're people." Grant sat at Logan's right and suddenly the super-soldier felt like he was in the sane block of people at the table. Unfortunately, that was two sane people to four insane.

"So it's better to imprison or kill them?" Garrett asked. "To let their resources go to waste?"

"Sir, I respect Phil Coulson. I don't know Black Widow but all I've heard about her was good." Grant paused to pick his words before saying, "This doesn't feel right."

"I concur." Logan didn't realize he was going to speak until the words came out. "This is very, very wrong."

"It's for the greater good." Ricochet brushed her red hair back with strong fingers, looking bored. "Grant, this is the best solution possible."

"These are people we respect. People we even love." Grant shook his head, palms pressing against the table. "This is a horrible way to treat them."

Garrett snorted. "So it's okay with an enemy, just not an enemy we like, like Coulson-"

"_Loki's dangerous. You should just let me put an arrow into his other eye. Without a blunt head shot at an angle." The sound of an apple crunching between teeth, as loud as a board snapping into pieces._

"_Dangerous but potentially useful." _

"Logan?" Grant's cautious touch on his shoulder jerked his head up sharply. Logan was panting and sweating, his hands aching. He looked down at them to see shattered pieces of the table clenched in them, so tightly that he'd drawn blood. He'd broken off two half-moons of wood. _That was what I heard in the fugue._ Grant's voice jarred him from his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Logan looked around the table. Ricochet looked concerned, as did Grant. There was fear in Grant's eyes, too, a fear he saw echoed in all the other men - particularly Barton.

"Did you bump your head harder than ya thought?" McCulloch spoke with far too much casualness.

_They're afraid that SHIELD's brainwashing is coming back. _Logan forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just a few splinters." He pulled one out, a three-inch piece that was better described as a toothpick instead of a splinter. The hole it left behind bled freely for a moment before starting to close.

"If the conversation is bugging you that much, you can sit out." Garrett almost never gave passes like this but today he seemed to be in a giving mood. "You, too, Grant."

"You're still going to brainwash people I respect? Sell them like-" Grant struggled with the word. "Like an elite computer program? Custom made to the buyer's specs."

"You didn't argue last time we did this." Garrett spoke softly, his voice filled with a clear warning.

"Last time?" Logan asked, looking around the room.

The silence that followed his innocent question was filled with awkwardness, right until Garrett smoothly said, "Before your time."

"Then wouldn't Grant have been buried deep in SHIELD?" Logan knew the timeline pretty well at this point. He'd gone over the files to be sure he knew what was real and what was memory.

Garrett slapped the table, grinning expansively. "Of course. You're right, Logan." His voice was filled with reproach as he looked at Grant. "I don't know what I was thinking. Why don't you two sit this out if you're uncomfortable?"

Logan put the shattered pieces of wood on top of the table and stood with all the dignity he could muster. Grant stood with him and followed him out to the infirmary. Silently, Grant pulled out the first aid gear while Logan dropped into a seat. When the super-soldier started to grasp the tweezers so that he could dig out the shards of wood, his companion took them from him. "I've got you," Grant murmured and bent over Logan's hands.

Having someone care for his wounds did much to calm Logan. The simple sign that someone cared soothed him. "Thank you, Grant."

"You know, we are friends." Grant looked up at him hastily, trying to gauge what Logan was thinking. "It's hard to tell here, sometimes. Things get all . . . mixed up. I think of you as a friend."

"We've been friends for a while. About six months before SHIELD grabbed me, and the last three here. Almost a year. That's a long time in our business," Logan pointed out with a slight smile.

"I know, I know. I just-" Grant cut himself off, looking uncomfortable with the topic. "I wanted you to know that, regardless of whatever else happens, you are one of my friends."

"And you're mine." Logan reached out to grasp his shoulder but stopped before he actually put his bleeding hand on Grant. "Right now, you're the only friend in HYDRA that I'm comfortable with, actually."

"Yeah, I know." Grant dropped his gaze back to Logan's hand. He worked in silence for a moment, pulling splinters and applying disinfectant that Logan probably didn't need. "Garrett's right about one thing: if I'm opposed to doing this just because I like people, I should be opposed to doing it to everyone."

"Who did they do it to last?" Logan was a little curious about that, given the way it had disquieted his friend.

Grant cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the wounds. "A powerful being. Someone who had tried to kill lots of people. HYDRA captured him and the decision was made to rewrite him."

Logan felt a shiver of unease pass through him but he hid it with a smile. "Sounds like an unpleasant fellow. It sounds like he was better off rewritten."

"I didn't know him, so I can't tell you." Grant glanced up, smiling. "But I did meet the Winter Soldier once, before he went AWOL."

"What was he like?" Logan had heard stories of HYDRA's most famous assassin, one reputed to have beaten the Black Widow.

Grant paused for a long moment. "Empty. They'd stripped everything out of him and left a killing machine behind." He met Logan's eyes. "I don't want to see them do the same to Phil Coulson. To rip away the man he was and leave a stranger behind." He sat up. "You're patched up."

"I don't know that we can do anything." Logan did put his hand on Grant's shoulder, enjoying offering the comfort he'd just been given. "I'm sorry. If there was something I could do . . ." He thought and asked, "Do you think Garrett would listen to another argument?"

"No, but I'm going to try." Grant stood up. "I think I'll get him alone. Maybe I can help him see sense if it's just the two of us."

"Good luck." Logan left the infirmary with him, watching as Grant headed toward the meeting room on his mission. When he was out of sight, Logan turned to work on his own project: finding out why Phil Coulson's presence or mere name sent him into fugue states. There was no better time with everyone else in a meeting.


	17. Chapter 17

The room that Coulson was being held in was close to the infirmary; Logan didn't have long to ponder whether this was a good idea or not. He didn't _want_ to talk himself out of it. The super-soldier didn't hesitate at the door, giving himself only a second to brace himself before opening it.

Coulson looked up at him and stiffened, jerking tight against his bonds. Logan felt a fugue coming on again and he barely entered and closed the door before he went to his knees.

_A glass prison, his brother inside. Coulson pointing a gun at him, as Logan drew on the magic that was familiar to him as breathing. He set up a decoy illusion-_

With effort, Logan pulled himself back from that false memory. He'd never known magic of any kind. When he looked up at Coulson, the man stared at him with pure fear. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Logan rasped.

"You ki-killed me." Coulson got that single sentence out before having some kind of seizure. His eyes rolled back in his head and he jerked against the restraints in a broken rhythm. "T-t-tasha!"

If Coulson died Garrett would have his head. Logan wasn't a doctor and didn't know what else to do; he hurried out of the room to the next one, where the Black Widow was trying to pretend she hadn't just been attempting to pick her cuffs. "Come on, you," Logan growled, grabbing the ring that chained her to the table and breaking it loose with a sharp jerk.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he caught her by the arm and dragged her into the hallway.

"He's having a seizure." Logan shoved her into the room. "Tell me what to do!"

"Phil." The whisper was full of fear but the woman didn't hesitate to hop up on the bed, straddling him. Logan's eyebrows rose at this unconventional treatment but it seemed to work. Coulson stopped seizing though his body remained taut with tension.

"Tasha." Coulson whispered the name as ardently as a prayer.

Logan saw her fingers trace lightly over his face and her touch eased the terrible strain of his locked muscles. Coulson tipped up his chin, seeking a kiss, but Romanov whispered, "We have company."

Coulson looked past her. "Loki."

Logan pressed his lips together as his fair face reddened. "I am _not_-"

Behind him, the lock snapped on the door. Logan spun and peered through the observation window to see Barton on the other side of the door. "What?" Logan asked just as Barton did something to the controls next to the door. They dropped into free fall as the room disconnected from the plane. The lights blinked out a second later.

Logan was thrown to the roof; Romanov almost joined him but already had a grip on Coulson. The weight of the bed kept them from slamming into it with the violence he'd experienced. They weren't saved when the room started to roll, flinging them about wildly. Logan saw glimpses of a blue-black sky through the window as they fell.

The impact with the water dropped him to the floor and threw Romanov across him. Coulson's bed landed inches away from Logan's knee, sparing him a painful injury. The emergency light flickered to life, sensing the lack of power and switching over to batteries. It gave the room a dim, blue illumination. With a growl, he heaved the woman off of him and went to the window. He fell against it rather than walking to it; the room was being tossed rudely by the waves.

It was storming outside. "Because of _course_ it is," Logan growled, turning to assess the room. It was bare - it had been a prison cell and held nothing useful. He had left most of his weapons behind in his room; only his knife remained in his boot. His armor was back on the Bus, too. He had on his combat pants on but only a green t-shirt beside his boots.

His two best resources were lying on the floor, groaning. They had no weapons; Romanov wore her combat suit but Phil's chest armor had been stripped off, leaving him in dress pants and a button-down shirt. Their skills and knowledge were all they were bringing to the table.

Logan stepped over to the bed and peered at the restraints on Coulson. The urgency of the situation overrode any fugues that might be starting, or perhaps that was done for now. Regardless, Logan was clear-headed as he bent over the other man and saw his restraints required a key. Drawing his knife, he reached for the first strap.

Slim fingers wrapped around his wrist and pinched the nerve cluster just below his thumb. His knife fell from numb fingers as Romanov twisted his arm higher. "Ow, stop it!" Logan fought against the pain and managed to ease the lock she had on him. "I'm trying to free him, you fucking maniac!"

Her fingers didn't move. "I don't trust a word you say."

"Then trust this: this room will fill with water and sink, and we will all die if we don't work together." Logan met her gaze just as a crack of lightning illuminated the interior of the cell. It threw everything into bright contrast. Her green eyes were wide and uncertain, and for a second he was sure he'd die here because others couldn't see the value of working together to save their lives. "Here, a peace offering."

He twisted his hand slightly and caught one of the cuffs ringing her wrist. With a sharp twist, he fouled the locking mechanism and pulled open the restraint. He repeated it on her other arm, then looked at her. "We will die if we don't work together."

Those iron fingers released him and she pressed his knife back into his hand. "Hurry up. We're already in an inch of water."

Logan knelt and cut the bonds mostly through touch. "Coulson, are you awake?"

"I'm here." The SHIELD agent sounded dazed and Logan reached out to cup his chin. Turning his head, Logan frowned at the gash across the man's forehead. He helped Coulson stand and pulled the sheets off the bed, slicing a wide strip from it and cobbling together a hasty field bandage.

"We don't have anything useful except the mattress." Romanov leaned over Logan's shoulder suddenly and he nearly stabbed her in reaction. "I think it'll float."

The urge to touch her filled him again. Logan pulled away from her. "You two make a harness to help us use the bed with what's left of the sheets."

Romanov quirked her eyebrow at him coolly. "I thought you might do that-"

"_What's your game?"_

"_Chess."_

"-since you have the knife." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He handed the knife to her hilt first. "I'm going to see about getting us out of here once you have our boat ready."

She gave him a ghost of a smile at that, taking the weapon and joining Phil. The two of them bent over their task as Logan bitterly reflected that he would love to have Grant here now. He'd even take Ricochet, just to have someone on his side.

Shaking off the thoughts about how he wanted things, Logan focused on the door. It was likely to be the best exit point; most of the water gushing into the room was coming around its seal. As he peered out the window, he realized that the room had already sunk several feet into the ocean.

He glanced up and hopped up on the bed. Logan felt the two below him watching him closely as he pulled the tile out of the ceiling. Above the frame for the drop ceiling was a metal top. He'd need help to break through that but it would be better than opening the door and fighting through the water pressure.

He dropped off the bed and pulled one of the metal supports off the bed, then hopped back up on it and knocked out several more tiles. Drawing the pipe back, he used it like a spear to punch through the metal. The pipe bent on the third hole and he had to get another but he succeeding in creating a square of holes big enough for all of them.

Dropping the pipe, he grabbed the metal frame that had held the tiles. Using mostly his upper body strength and hoping the frame held, he curled his legs up and kicked against the weakened ceiling.

It came half loose, releasing a torrent of cold wind and colder rain into the cell. He kicked once more to finish the job. The frame gave out at the same time and he fell-

Right into Coulson's arms. The man grunted heavily as Logan's full weight slammed into him but he managed not to fall or drop the super soldier.

For a second, Logan struggled to get his bearings. Coulson's warm breath blew across his neck, a marked improvement over the cold air and rain coming from the hole he'd made. "Thanks," Logan said as he regained his balance. He wasn't sure if they were fully allies yet but the catch had felt like a peace offering.

"You're welcome." Coulson's tone was just as wary and uncertain.

"One of you boys wanna give me a boost?" Romanov looked from one to the other. The rain had already plastered her hair to her head and a tendril ran down her cheek and traced the edge of her chin. Logan felt the urge to brush it back, just to indulge that ridiculous desire to touch her.

Coulson stepped around Logan and offered her cupped hands. She stepped in and he straightened, and she went right through the hole. A second later, she was leaning back in, her hand extended. Coulson looked at Logan. "I'm not going to be as graceful, so not so fast."

"Understood." Logan made a stirrup with his fingers, gripping the foot Coulson put in it. The SHIELD agent braced his hands on Logan's shoulder; when Logan lifted, Coulson transferred one hand to Romanov.

Logan was careful not to raise Coulson faster than he could handle it. No point in damaging his allies while he might need them. Once the enemy agent was through, Logan passed up the mattress. "Get us some of those pipes, too," Romanov said as she poked her head back in the hole, pointing at the one he'd discarded.

"Why?" Logan passed the pipe up and got her another one from the bed.

"Because we have one knife between us." Romanov gave him that playful grin again. "A girl needs to be armed in these dangerous times."

"That's not comforting to me," Logan said wryly, trying to make a joke of it. They couldn't hurt him with those poles, not unless they caught him off guard and then he let them attack him for several hours. _Maybe not that long_, he mentally amended as he passed up a really sharp pole. It still wouldn't make a difference if they tried to jump him.

_These mortals are so weak_. As he jumped and caught their hands, pulling himself up, Logan failed to notice the aberrant thought. He had more immediate problems anyway.

On the top of the cell, Logan got a better idea of their plight. Stormy water surrendered them on all sides; there wasn't a light anywhere in sight. Romanov and Coulson huddled together clutching the mattress. It didn't look like much against the might of the Southern Indian Ocean.

Drawing a deep breath, he crouched with the two SHIELD agents. "As one," he said. The other two nodded and he counted, "One. Two. Three!"

Together, they jumped into the raging sea.


	18. Chapter 18

"I should fucking kill you." Garrett glared at Barton. He wasn't the only one glowering at him but he was the one Clint was worried about snapping.

"You should thank me." Clint tried to project an air of confidence. He hadn't actually planned to dump Loki, Natasha, and Coulson into the ocean but when he'd seen the opportunity, he taken it. "Loki was a fucking time bomb. He was going to blow."

"You have set back the plan." Garrett pulled his gun and Clint tensed, prepared to move. The archer put his finger on the latch that would unfold his bow. "For that alone, I should blow your head off."

"John, I don't know that losing yet another operative is the right way to proceed." Ricochet smiled coldly at Clint even as she interceded for him.

Garrett sighted down the barrel at him for a tense moment before nodding. "You're right. Annabelle, that's right." He put the gun away and everyone relaxed. "I'll come up with another punishment for you later, Barton."

"Fine. You all still know I did the right thing." Clint moved his finger but kept himself ready. He was going to have to be careful for a few weeks until everyone had calmed down.

"Do you really think they're dead?" Ward glared at him. "I've fought with Coulson. Romanov is a legend, and Logan is an Asgardian with the knowledge of a HYDRA operative in his brain. The chances that you've killed them is right around zero percent." The man shoved himself off the wall and stalked toward the door.

"I'm going to start going through our personnel files to see if I can mitigate this disaster," Garrett announced before leaving. McCulloch followed, just shaking his head at Clint.

"For what it's worth, I think you're right." Ricochet smiled at him and Clint had the feeling that she was really paying attention to him for the first time. "I just wished I'd gotten to fuck him before you did that."

Clint smiled drily. "I'll keep your vagina in mind in the future."

"Good." She grinned wickedly and left the room.

"That went well." His voice was loud in the empty room and Clint rose to go help John. Maybe finding some more recruits would get him off Garrett's shit list.

Natasha knew how hours could stretch out when there was no way to keep track of them. In the midst of discomfort and fear, they seemed even longer.

The storm beat down on them and she wondered if they were making any progress at all. Without navigation or any points to orient herself on, there was no way to tell speed or direction.

She was soaked to the bone and each blast of wind felt like an icy knife. Her legs, trailing in the water, felt warmer but she knew that was a lie. Her legs were just numb.

Fingers tapped her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see Phil's worried gaze. "Switch?" he yelled over the fury of the storm.

Natasha shook her head. Phil hadn't been in the warm spot in the middle long enough; in truth, there was no long enough anymore. They wouldn't be truly warm until they were dry. Only Loki remained warmer than the air around them as his stubborn Asgardian physiology held off hypothermia as ardently as any other ills of the flesh.

Phil frowned at her but Natasha closed her eyes. _God, what I wouldn't give for a nap-_

A sudden jostle on the mattress dragged her weary eyes open. Loki lay between her and Phil, adjusting the straps that kept them on the tossing floatation device. He looped a lightly muscled arm over her and pulled her against his side. Immediately her skin craved the touch of his warmth. "Sleep," he murmured in her ear.

Coulson threw an arm over Loki's back and grabbed her shoulder, tangling his hands in the strips of bedding that criss-crossed her back. In response, she reached over the godling and slid her hand under Phil's belt.

"Sleep." Loki's order was more insistent. Natasha stopped fighting. She curled against the warm godling and let herself drift away. At first she dozed lightly, aware of the storm and the warm monster at her side. She didn't mean to actually sleep but exhaustion took its toll.

A sharp crack of thunder woke her just before Loki screamed her name. "Romanov! Coulson!" The Asgardian's hands were wrapped around her head, pulling her skull under his body. She had a split-second to see before she was pressed against a sodden mattress but in that short time, she had glimpsed something big directly ahead. The mattress crested a wave and shot them down the slope of water, and Natasha felt Loki brace himself.

The godling took the worst of the impact. Natasha still felt the blow, even cushioned under his tough body. The mattress buckled and twisted violently and she was torn away from the two men and tossed into the air. Cold seawater swallowed her whole; only her training prevented her from panicking and inhaling liquid.

She swam upward, gulping a deep lungful of air the second her head cleared the water. Panting, she turned in place, peering through the black night and tossing waves for the mattress or either - hopefully both - of her companions. A flash of something caught her eye and with nothing else to go on, she swam toward it.

Phil bobbed on the waves, fighting with something in the water. When Natasha got closer, she saw that the SHIELD agent was fighting to keep Loki's head above the water without going under himself. Grabbing Loki's shirt, she helped stabilize the heavy godling long enough for Phil to get his arms under Loki's. Leaning back, he kept both of their faces above water.

"What did we hit?" Phil shouted to her.

"I don't know! It's big, maybe a boat!" Natasha tread water next to the two men, peering into the dark.

"We need to get out of the water! Loki's bleeding!" Phil sounded worried for the Asgardian. Natasha understood, though: when you assessed their situation with the cold, hard facts, their chances of survival went up with the godling's greater strength and stamina. Assuming that he didn't kill them first.

The darkness remained unyielding and though Natasha sensed that they were close to the big object, she couldn't see it. It took several minutes of fruitless searching before a series of lightning flashes gave her some visibility.

The object to their right was a black wall or cliff. She hadn't been able to tell if it was man-made though she suspected it was. The walls had been far too smooth for natural rock, even if it were beaten by the waves. As the flashes continued, she looked in all directions. In the last burst of light, she saw something close to the water not far away. Natasha grabbed Phil's shoulder and pointed but by that time it was gone.

His trust in her was complete and just that gesture was enough for him to turn himself in the water and start to drag Loki toward whatever she'd seen. Natasha hoped it was something helpful as she swam slowly next to Phil, aiding him where she could.

The thing she'd seen was a black metal platform. Natasha could have cried with relief but there was no time for that. The hunk of metal was a little larger than a king bed and hung two feet over the sea. Whomever had built it had included a ladder and Natasha gratefully scrambled out of the water.

When she looked back, neither man could be seen. Phil surfaced with a sputter, drawing Loki up higher. He pulled himself to the ladder and hung off it with one arm for a moment. Natasha lay down and touched his face. "I'm okay!" Phil's yell didn't allay her fears for him. She couldn't see his face but the movements of his body indicated that he had exhausted almost all of his reserves.

After a moment, he nodded to her and she changed her position on the metal dock. When Phil heaved Loki's unconscious body out of the water, she grabbed the mind washed alien's arm and pulled him higher. Phil climbed halfway out of the water while she strained to keep the progress they'd made. Then he lifted higher while she pulled and the godling rose another half-foot.

Finally, her heave wasn't stopped by her muscles failing against gravity but with Loki falling across her legs. Natasha grabbed his belt just in case he started to roll back in but he didn't shift.

Phil grabbed him by the belt and dragged the godling off of her. The two humans collapsed on either side of Loki, who was still warmer than either of them. Without a word, they huddled against the Asgardian, even as the storm still raged.

"I touched bottom." Phil's statement brought Natasha's head up and she stared blearily at the dark blur that was her friend. "I slipped off the ladder on the first lift and my foot touched bottom. It's over six foot but I touched bottom."

That news revived Natasha more than finding the platform. They were close to land of some kind, and land meant people. More importantly, it meant warmth, food, and a phone. It would be a lot easier for Thor to collect his brother if Loki was knocked out.

_Speaking of. . ._ He was still unconscious and that was never a good sign. Natasha wasn't sure if he was sleeping or a sign of his brain in shut-down. She stripped off her jacket and sacrificed her undershirt to make a bandage for him. Phil helped her once he saw what she was doing, stopping the slow leak of blood still coming from the limp man's head.

Natasha pulled her jacket back and on went to see what she could learn about their position. Feeling the edges of the platform, she found a metal staircase. Moving carefully back to Phil, she cuddled up to the warm godling again, resting her chin on his neck. The intimate position might have been uncomfortable had she let it bother her. Under the circumstances, the warmth from the prone man was divine. Phil lifted his head as she settled in and she was able to be heard without screaming. "There are stairs. Do we leave him and come back?"

Phil groaned audibly and dropped his head, his forehead pressing into Loki's buzz cut. "No. We don't know if there are hostiles here."

"That means we have to carry him." Natasha sighed as she thought about how tall that barrier had been. A high wave crested the platform, shoving them back toward the wall and re-drenching their clothing. They clearly couldn't stay here. "I can carry him if you get him on my back."

Phil lifted his head, spitting water. "Are you sure?"

"You swam him over. My turn to do the heavy lifting." In truth, she wasn't sure how long she could carry him but they had to move. Phil was in worse shape; she hadn't been knocked unconscious by Loki in the first assault or had a seizure.

It took both of them to get the man up on her back, like a child riding piggyback. He was too big for a fireman's hold and probably would have torn her shoulder off with his weight had she tried. Natasha grabbed his thighs and locked her arms to hold him. Phil used a strip of cloth from something to tie Loki's arms in place, securing him around her torso. Gritting her teeth with effort, she started to climb.

Without her hands free for the handrail, she had to feel her way up with her feet. The Avenger almost fell when she reached the first landing; she'd been expecting a step.

"You rest." Away from the roar of the ocean, Phil didn't have to scream at her. "I'll find the way up."

Natasha nodded and leaned against the railing wearily, too tired to argue. Although they were away from the water, the wind was picking up and she wondered how long before she'd be blown off balance by it. _At least I'm warm_, she thought wryly. With the exertion of climbing and the living furnace on her back, there was no way she could be cold.

"This way." Phil caught her by the arm and led her to the next staircase. Natasha became aware that he was helping her by taking some of Loki's weight but she was too tired to argue.

The trip became a nightmare of pain and fatigue. Natasha kept her head down and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Phil stopped her or changed her course periodically, and she followed his directions blindly. She found the pattern of the stairs; there were twenty-three steps, then a landing, and then she went six steps to the left and climbed twenty-three steps.

Then Phil turned her to the right instead of the left. The wind cut at them harder and when Natasha looked around, she couldn't see the bulk of the wall anymore. They were at the top.


	19. Chapter 19

_I'll sleep for a week._ Phil made the promise to himself again as he went up the next flight of stairs, doing what he could to help Tasha. How she'd done this for so long, he didn't know. He trusted that she'd tell him when she needed a break. _Or maybe the damned Russians don't know when to stop._

The wind shoved him a new direction and he caught himself against the railing. The unexpected gust was welcome when he saw that they had reached the top.

Tasha kept walking, turning as if there were more stairs. Phil caught her arm and reoriented her. He saw her look around but without any real change in expression. She'd pushed herself to the edge of exhaustion.

There was more light up here; either the storm was abating or dawn was coming. Not only could he see Tasha's expression but he could see that there was no shelter on top of this wall. The ground was too even for a natural surface.

"Wait here." Phil made sure Tasha understood before he hurried forward, trying to find somewhere for them to rest. Twenty feet from the edge, he found a trench cut into the ground. It was completely square, about three foot deep and went right and left as far as he could see. Most importantly, it was out of the wind.

He led Tasha back to the trench and helped her climb down. Together, they got Loki off her back and into the pit. Tasha dropped to her side next to the injured godling, pulling Phil down with her. "Your hands are ice. In the middle," she muttered, pushing him back against Loki's chest and putting one of the godling's limp arms over Phil. Before he could protest, she burrowed into his arms and fell asleep instantly.

_He killed me._ The thoughts seemed far away as a cocoon of warmth invaded his chilled body. Phil wasn't sure could relax enough to sleep, not when he was practically in the arms of his murderer, but the last thought he remembered before falling asleep was, _Tasha is right - this __**is**__ warm._

Waking up was a singularly unpleasant experience. Phil had to pee, and he had an erection, and the man behind him had one, and the sun was splitting his skull in half. Stifling a groan, he glanced down at Natasha to find her still sleeping, curled against his chest with his shirt balled up in her fists.

Phil looked over his shoulder to find Loki plastered against his back. Natasha's white undershirt was stained with dried blood but he didn't see any fresh blood seeping from the Asgardian's head. The arm flung over him was like an iron band and Phil felt bizarrely like he was being claimed by the outsider. _Yep, enough of that._ Phil grabbed Loki's wrist so he could lift it clear of his body.

His only warning was the sudden tension in Loki's arm. Before Phil could say anything, he found himself rolled violently onto his back with Loki pinning him to the floor of the trench. The godling's green eyes were unfocused but his hand clamped down perfectly on Phil's windpipe. The agent couldn't breathe as he clawed futility at the hands choking him. For a terrifying second, he thought he would die a second time at Loki's hands.

Natasha came awake at the sudden violence around her. "Loki! Stop! We saved your life!" The pressure on Phil's throat eased slightly. The woman dared to touch Loki's arm, like a trainer soothing a spooked horse. "It's alright. You're safe."

The Asgardian sat up and released Phil's throat. As the SHIELD agent struggled to get in enough air, the dangerous man hissed, "My name. Is not. _Loki!_"

Natasha bent over Phil, assessing him with her eyes before turning back to Loki. "What should we call you then?"

"You know damned well my name is Logan O'Dell!" Loki all-but screamed it at her as he stood up shakily, gripping the edge of the trench for support. Phil scrambled away from him and pulled himself up on the other side of the artificial ditch.

Her voice was soothing as Tasha asked, "So you want us to call you Logan?"

Loki glared at her. "You are testing my patience, Romanov."

"I want it to be clear that _you_ are insisting we call you Logan. Or O'Dell. Whichever." Natasha didn't respond to his anger and Phil admired her brains once again. When "Logan" regained his memory, he and Natasha could maintain that they'd never lied to him about his identity, that they'd called him exactly what he'd demanded they call him.

Loki stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Phil watched tensely as the powerful being mulled over Natasha's words. "Logan," he finally told her.

Natasha actually smiled, which was more than Phil could manage right now. "Then call me Natasha."

The other two looked at him. Natasha's expression asked him to follow her lead. "Phil." He rubbed his throat and glared at the Asgardian.

Loki nodded in acknowledgement of their names before he looked around, his green eyes turning confused. "Where are we?"

"We don't know. We barely got you out of the water last night." Natasha took a step closer. "How's your head?"

"It hurts. There was a seawall, and I bounced my skull off of it." Loki pulled off the bandage and dropped it, his fingers probing at the wound.

"Let me." Natasha stopped when he glared at her but she didn't withdraw. "I can look at it easier than you."

The Asgardian nodded reluctantly and let her come close. As Natasha took a look at their "friend", Phil assessed at their surroundings in daylight. The black metal stretched left and right, moving in a curve. At this point, it was five hundred feet wide and more than a mile long. It was already hot up here as the dark surface absorbed all the heat. He didn't see an opening of any kind into the structure.

"You look like you're healing." Natasha stepped away from Loki, picking up and pocketing her undershirt. She glanced at Phil. "See anything?"

"No, but this facility is built around something." Phil pointed to the inner curve of the structure. "I want to see what it is."

There wasn't anything better to suggest, even if they had wanted to argue with him. The three of them walked across to the edge. At the edge, Phil felt himself smile. "That's better."

The structure stretched in a 'U' shape around a small outcropping of rock. Nestled inside the shelter of the man-made facility was a wide golden beach. Even from here, Phil could see the fish in the blue water, as well as signs of crustaceans in the sand. Birds flitted around the cove. Green plants, flowers, and even a few small trees grew stubbornly despite the lack of good soil.

"Look." Loki pointed to their right, revealing stairs down.

"Let's go see paradise," Phil laughed, feeling his spirits lighten. They had food, at the minimum. They could rig a shelter. All they needed was potable water.

As they descended, the SHIELD agent took another look at the wall. It wasn't welded together but appeared to be a single piece of metal. He tapped it once to confirm that it had a metallic ring but beyond "metal", he had no idea what it was made of.

The sand was warm but cool in comparison to the black cliff they'd just left. Though Phil was eager to see the circumstances of their new home, he turned back toward the dark structure the second his feet had left it. Aside from the ladder with its landings, there was only one other break in the endless wall: a recessed door.

The other two had seen it as well. As one, they moved to the entrance, looking for a way inside. It was a round door of some kind but there were no marks, latches, or identifying features on it. Loki stepped forward and pressed on the door, then tried to push it to one side. It didn't budge. "Damn it." The Asgardian stepped back, his green eyes narrowed.

"I don't think this is human in origin." Natasha spoke softly but her announcement seemed to ring in the air.

Phil wondered if there was another blue alien inside this thing; when he felt his fingers start to twitch, he turned away quickly. "Let's worry about getting inside after we have the necessities covered."

"I'll find water," Tasha volunteered. Phil smiled at her, thankful for her support in that simple statement.

"Yes." Loki seemed preoccupied with the door but after a long moment, he turned away. "I'll build a shelter."

"I'll get some food." Relieved that everyone, particularly the unpredictable Loki, was cooperating, Phil turned toward the ocean and started to review his survival training. Hopefully, they wouldn't be out here for long.

The question was, who would find them first: SHIELD or HYDRA?


	20. Chapter 20

Logan bit back a curse as the vine failed to hold the driftwood branches together. Reminding himself to be patient, he tried the other fibrous vine. He was asking a lot of the plant, he could admit. He was trying to make a triangle of branches wedged in crevices of the natural rock. There was a ledge here, slightly slanted so that it drained and big enough for all three of them to sleep in there.

Logan glanced up to see Coulson bending over the V of stones he'd set up this morning. When the tide receded, there should be fish caught by the rocks. The man had stripped out of his dress shirt and given it to Romanov - _Natasha_, he reminded himself. Phil had also shed his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants legs. Logan had expected him to have pasty white legs but a hint of color suggested that the SHIELD agent saw some time outdoors. _We'll all have better tans if we don't get out of here soon._

Pulling his gaze away, he focused his efforts on the shelter again. He wound his secondary vine choice around the branches, making the bindings twice as thick as his previous attempt. It held as he arranged the branches over the ledge but he could see it fraying with every movement and bump. "Damn," he muttered, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to construct the shelter the way he wanted.

His motions brisk with irritation, he stripped the vines off the wood supports. He'd have to go with the simpler shelter, which wouldn't leave as much room for the three of them. Logan ignored the blush that crept on his face again as he recalled how he'd woken up, hugging another man close.

He didn't want to think about that. He certainly didn't want to think about the feelings it had awoken in him.

_You've never shared a bed with someone before._ This was the third repeat of his little pep talk but it didn't seem to be doing any good. _It's normal to feel aroused when pressed against another body._

Oddly, he didn't feel weird about it being a man. HYDRA was as homophobic as any military, which was to say you didn't admit to being gay if you were. Also, if you had to seduce a mark that was the same sex as you, no one teased you about it. That happened from time to time, and no one wanted to be heckled when it was their turn.

Logan had never felt much of a draw to anyone, man or woman. Now, not only had it happened, his body had responded that way to someone he didn't like outside of a mission scenario. It made him feel like his own sex drive was out of control. He'd been proud that he wasn't as easily distracted by a tight ass or big rack like other men. He was watching Phil again and pulled his eyes away with effort.

The wooden support structures went into place as he worked on autopilot. His gaze was drawn further down the beach, where Natasha was cleaning out three plastic bottles she'd found in a tangle of driftwood and trash. Logan would freely admit that pollution was bad but today he was grateful that someone had chosen to dump their trash in the ocean. He paused to watch her as she used Phil's shirt to clean the plastic. They didn't have anything to sanitize with and Logan was concerned. There was nothing he could do about it and it was far more dangerous to his companions than him anyway.

He found himself worrying about them.

_It's false intimacy caused by the situation._ They'd been thrown into danger together by a common enemy; they had saved his life as surely as he had saved theirs. They'd slept huddled together. Logan knew that all of this could force emotional bonds and he hoped that knowledge of that would stop it from happening.

Growling at his errant thoughts, he shook them off and focused on completing the shelter. With the branches in place, it was easy to lash leaves to the frame to hold off any rain. Stepping back, he studied his workmanship. _Not perfect, but it'll do._

_It'll do to keep you close to Coulson._

His ears burned at the thought and he irritably turned to the next project: fire. This one was a little harder, though building a fire pit near the shelter was as simple as arranging rocks. He gathered wood of various sizes and some dried out plants that served as tinder. Then he bent to the onerous task of starting the fire without aid.

Without a bow, he had to do it by hand, spinning the spindle between his hands. Granted, he was better at it than any of his HYDRA companions had been but it didn't make it more fun. Soon he was sweating freely from his efforts but there was a little trickle of smoke rising from his tinder nest. He quickly blew on it, spreading the sparks into small flames and feeding the fire larger and larger pieces of wood.

When he finally sat back to admire his work, he realized he wasn't alone. Logan spun and was halfway on his feet before he realized it was Natasha. "Not many people can sneak up on me," he admitted, trying to pretend like he hadn't been going for his knife.

Something flickered across her face and was gone before he could interpret it. "Here's your bottle." She handed him a dented plastic bottle filled with three inches of water.

There was no cap and he cautiously sniffed the water. "Not much," he casually observed.

"It's what I could get off of the leaves." Natasha sat down crosslegged, staring into the fire. "I used a plastic bag to make a water catch, so we should have more in the morning or if it rains."

Logan peered up at the cloudless sky but didn't express his doubts about that, nor did he point out that this was not the season for storms in this area. "Good thinking." He spared her a smile; the one he got back made him think of books and chess.

"Thank you." Natasha's remark startled him; when he met her gaze, he saw an intense and profound gratitude there.

"For?"

"Saving Phil and I." Her green eyes didn't waver like Phil's did when they locked gazes. "You didn't have to."

"Had I not, I'd likely be dead myself." Logan hesitated before opening a touchy subject. "If SHIELD comes, will you let me go?"

"I don't work for SHIELD anymore." Her smile turned secretive. "I'm an Avenger."

He leaned closer. "If they come, will you let me go?"

"Will you let me go if HYDRA comes?" she asked.

Logan opened his mouth to lie, to assure her that of course he would but found the words sticking in his throat. He flashed back to the last meeting he'd had with his colleagues. _"I concur. This is very, very wrong."_ If HYDRA caught her, they'd wipe her. Yet he couldn't bring himself to release her, either. "I don't know," he told her.

"When you have your answer, I'll have mine." Natasha gave him that maddening, knowing smile again and stood. He watched her walk over to Phil. At this distance, their conversation should have been private but he had better hearing than they did.

"Hey," she said and by that greeting alone Logan guessed they were lovers.

"Hi." Phil straightened from his rock cage, looking at Natasha like she was all that mattered in the world. Logan swallowed back an unexpected ping of jealousy. The super-soldier told himself that it was because he'd never had anyone look at him like that.

"How's the great hunt coming?" Natasha asked, handing Phil his water.

"Thanks." The man took a small sip before answering. "We'll have fish tonight."

The Avenger gave a soft chuckle. "We'll have fish every night." She took a step closer to him. "I see you lost your tie."

"I didn't." Phil dug it out of his pocket and showed it to her. "I took it off to tie Loki to your back last night." Logan couldn't see her face but he saw the slight disbelief on Phil's. "Oh, don't tell me that excites you."

"No, not at all." Her tone had turned wry; Logan could imagine the playful smile that came with those words. "My man tying up another man with his tie? Nothing erotic about that at all." Just the heated tone in her purr made Logan's stomach clench in sudden lust.

Phil glanced at Logan quickly; when he saw the man watching them, he leaned back from Natasha. "Only out of context, Tasha."

"Almost everything is more fun out of context." She took a step back. "I'm going to search through the other driftwood piles for anything useful."

Phil watched her go before he went back to gathering food. Logan pushed himself to his feet. He should go find something to soften their bed. He didn't mind sleeping on stone but he would prefer not to if he didn't have to.


	21. Chapter 21

As deserted islands went, Natasha had been in worse situations. The night was warm and there were minimal bugs. The fish that Phil had caught earlier were roasting over the fire, they had some water to drink, and Loki could build a serviceable shelter. She'd been stuck in survival scenarios with far less competent companions.

"So, Logan, where do you come from?" Phil innocuous question drew a sharp glance from her but she immediately softened it. Her friend was testing Loki's memory. It could backfire on them but Natasha confessed to being curious as well.

"London." The answer came easily and there were no signs of distress. "Grew up in a project, joined the army, and was recruited to HYDRA after. You?"

"I was recruited by SHIELD out of a pool of CIA hopefuls." Phil smiled thinly. "Turns out that SHIELD gets first dibs on applicants for government jobs."

"That's surely not how you joined, Natasha," Logan replied, looking across the fire to her.

"No, I was working for another party when I was recruited by Barton and Phil." Natasha felt her chest catch, just as it always did when those old memories were dragged to the surface.

Loki tilted his head. "That sounds interesting."

Natasha stiffened at the implied question. "I thought Barton had told all my secrets to you."

Loki snorted. "Not me. Barton was the one who put me here. It's safe to say we don't get along."

"Why?" Natasha wondered if it had something to do with being shot in the eye by Barton.

"I think he's jealous, since I got one of the few successful batches of super soldier serum in the modern era." Loki leaned back and tucked his hands behind his head, looking nothing like the man who'd tried to invade New York. Natasha doubted that tyrant would let two mortals see him with dirty, broken fingernails and blood caked at his hairline.

"Ah." Phil nodded and was quiet for a long moment. "This fire needs a beer."

"If we're wishing, how about a steak?" Loki added with a chuckle.

"I'll take a charged satphone, thanks." Natasha grinned at the men, enjoying their expressions after her witty retort.

Phil reached forward and tested the fish, then handed one of the speared carcasses to her. The second went to Loki, and he claimed the last. "To a delicious dinner," he said, toasting with the fish.

"To not having to eat bugs," Loki said, raising his own fish.

Natasha laughed at their silliness, even if she knew this was the only way they'd survive without killing one another. _We might still kill each other_, she mused as she nibbled on her dinner. The flesh of the fish was light and flaky, if a little dry. "My compliments to the chef." Natasha smiled at Phil, watching the way that the fire painted his skin with gold. His answering expression made her wish they were alone and could finish what they had started in her apartment.

"Do I need to take a walk down the beach?" Loki's smirk would have been teasing if they had been better friends. As it was now, it was annoying. Worse, it was the most Loki-ish thing she'd seen from him yet. Was the psychotic godling's personality coming back now that he was away from HYDRA? As horrifying as the brainwashing was, Natasha didn't think Loki would be nearly as accommodating as Logan was.

"No." Natasha let her annoyance show in the single word.

Loki laughed, a chillingly familiar sound. "It's not a problem, I swear."

Natasha could see it was a problem, though she couldn't say why. His words were right but his body language spoke of jealousy and anger, and his tone had contained a caustic undertone. "It's fine. I think Phil and I can contain ourselves."

"I've been saying 'no' for years. A few more days won't matter." Phil spoke more to his fish than to her. Natasha glared at him and he lowered the meal. "I didn't mean it the way it came out-"

Loki's eyes widened as he grinned mischievously. "You guys haven't had sex yet."

"Not yet." Phil attempted to be casual about the topic. Natasha thought the tension in his voice was sexual deprivation until he said, "Sex isn't the most important part of a relationship anyway. It's only part of intimacy." His blue eyes locked with hers and she felt a shiver of desire.

"_What do you want from me?" _

"_Everything."_

Natasha didn't stop the heated look she gave Phil. "You two are killing me." Loki rose restlessly and headed for the water. He stopped before reaching the edge, his lean form a dark shadow against the moon-silvered sea.

"Think he feels like a third wheel?" Phil asked when he was out of earshot.

"I don't know." Natasha took a bite of fish thoughtfully. "I do know that he really believes he's Logan, Agent of HYDRA."

"Yeah, and that's creepy." Phil watched as Loki finished the fish and tossed the stick and bones into the water. "When he cracks, it'll be bad."

"Not if we help him through it." Natasha hadn't been aware she'd been considering it seriously until she spoke. Phil's expression became incredulous. "I know, Phil. If that break is coming, we will be in a position to help him."

"We'll have to if we want to survive it." Phil shook his head, frowning.

"To help him survive, too." Natasha glanced at him. "Thor's my friend and he still loves his brother."

"Alright." Phil sighed but wasn't upset. "The things you talk me into."

Natasha leaned over and kissed Phil lightly. Tossing her bones and stick into the fire, she rose and walked toward Loki. She didn't want to startle him, so she called, "Hey, Logan."

He turned, the distant fire giving her just enough light to see his mocking expression. "That was fast."

"Relax, nothing happened." Natasha moved to his side and looked out over the ocean. "We'll try not to do that anymore."

Loki turned with her, his head tilted. "Why?"

"Because two people having sex and leaving the third person out is rude, at best." Natasha smiled at him before turning her gaze out toward the ocean. "Besides, I think you want my boyfriend."

The choked sound from the other man made her smile. After a long moment, he said, "I'm not . . . Fuck. You noticed."

"Phil didn't, if you're worried." Natasha's foot bumped something and she bent down to dig a shell out of the sand.

"But you're not." When she glanced up, Loki had the most adorable look of suspicion on his face. "Why are you not worried?"

"I trust Phil. If he wants to have sex with you, he'll tell me. We'll talk." Natasha stepped out into surf and washed the sand off the shell, wondering if it was a pretty one. "In my business, you learn that sex and love are not the same thing."

When the godling spoke, he was so soft Natasha almost missed what he said. "If I loved him, that would be different?"

Natasha swallowed her surprise at the question - that was the _last_ thing she'd expected from Loki. "Very." She stood up and faced him, feeling the waves wash back and forth over her bare toes while she struggled with a response. "We've been through some traumatic events. That can create deep bonds. _Do_ you love my boyfriend?"

"No." His response was quick and almost sad. "I'm envious-" He cleared his throat. "He thinks I killed him so I'm not sure love's in the equation."

Natasha smiled. "Phil was going to kill me when we first met. Got as far as putting the gun to my head." Loki blinked at her. "If you want to hear his story, then ask him. But Logan - be sure you're ready to hear his story, and not just blow him off. He deserves better than that."

She left the Invader of New York standing in the sand, mulling over death and love. There were worse ways to spend an evening on the beach.


	22. Chapter 22

Sorry this is late but that might become normal for me. My sister is sick with cancer and sometimes needs my help with childcare or her health. I will try to keep to my Sunday updates.

These two posts were short and related so I linked them together. Enjoy!

The water reflected the sun into his eyes as Phil emptied and filled his lungs rapidly. When his lungs felt almost painfully full of air, he ducked under the water and kicked downward. The saltwater stung his eyes but he ignored that to focus on his goal: the leafy fronds of seaweed growing below. Natasha had found the colony four days ago and they'd been carefully harvesting it since.

Selecting a plant they hadn't touched yet, he quickly stripped off leaves, racing against his body's need for oxygen while trying to not take too much greenery. The harvested fronds were shoved into a basket that floated from the rough rope tied to his waist. Made from a mixture of sticks and some of the grass-like seaweed that hadn't proven edible, the crude container was his masterpiece. It was a sad, horrid looking monstrosity but it was bowl-like and held together, making it the best of his attempts. Natasha's were even worse and Logan's single success was more like a stiff net than a basket.

It was the attempts that were important, rather than the end result. Phil told himself that every time something didn't work as planned. They needed things they didn't have and they struggled together to find them or make something that worked. The week on the island had been a tough reminder of how easy modern life was.

His lungs were screaming for air and Phil turned and kicked sharply upward. His fingers ached, raw from fighting with the tough water plants, and his shoulders hurt from struggling under the water. It would have been easier to harvest entire plants and drag them up to the surface but they had agreed to be conservative with their use of this resource. Even if they had decided to harvest that way, he couldn't sever their hard stalks by hand. The knife was out in deeper water with Logan, who was using it to harvest oysters. In a toss-up between oysters and seaweed, Phil was happy to give Loki the edge in securing the crustaceans for dinner. Oysters tasted a lot better than the seaweed.

His head broke the surface and Phil gasped in a deep breath of air. The basket bumped against his knees as he squinted toward shore, where Natasha was drying out the seaweed. When moist, they had the texture of slime and a taste like grass. Dried out, they went down like fragile paper and tasted far blander. Between the two states, dried was preferred. If they could have gotten away without them, they would have but they needed more than just fish and the occasional feast of crustacean.

Natasha wasn't alone and Phil stiffened in worry. Loki sat on the beach near her, bent over a pile of oysters. They were chatting calmly enough but Phil studied Tasha's body language. When he saw she wasn't alarmed or afraid, he relaxed.

A quick check of the basket showed he needed to make at least three more dives. His arms hurt just thinking about it but he had no option. There was no McDonalds out here for quick, hot food; no grocery store for staples. They could eat only if they wrestled it from the ocean.

Filling his lungs again, Phil started to dive, only to abort the attempt when he heard Tasha's laughter. He didn't hesitate because she sounded in danger - quite the opposite. Phil couldn't quite suppress the uneasy jealousy that tightened his gut. Irritated at himself for having such a juvenile reaction, he took another breath and dove again.

His anger lent him strength and he stayed under the water longer than normal, stripping more leaves than in his previous trips. There were black spots in his vision when he finally came back up for air. Unfortunately, he surfaced to the sound of _both_ of them laughing.

_He killed me! _The thought didn't bring the shakes for once; the resentment in the thought boiled away the normal stress of that statement. Phil checked his basket and decided that he did have enough leaves.

A second later, he stopped those thoughts. He wasn't going to be that stupid guy who freaked out because his hot girlfriend could have conversations with friends. Or guys she was trapped on a strange island with.

_I trust her._ The mental declaration brought some peace. Taking another deep breath, he went down into the water one more time, stretching himself to harvest the last of the needed kelp. He surfaced and sucked in fresh air - and something bumped his leg.

Alarm tingled through his nerves as Phil looked down. A sleek gray shape darted past him in the water, a form well known to anyone who had watched _Jaws._ This shark was not the monster from the horror film but it could kill him nonetheless.

Phil pulled in a lungful of air and dunked under the water so he could see what kind of shark it was. As the predator swam away, he pulled the basket in close. It was a pitiful weapon but all that he had. He could swim for shore but he would never make it. The shark turned sharply, giving him a look at the short face and flat nose. _Bull shark._ That species was the worst of the bump-and-bite offenders, using touch to determine whether to attack.

It came at him in a rush, little more than an open mouth with more teeth than Phil had ever seen outside of a nightmare. He held the basket in front of himself and waited. The charge seemed to take forever but it was mere seconds and he barely got the basket into the mouth in time. The impact hit him in the chest and shoved him sharply backwards in the water.

The basket caught in the teeth, wedging the mouth open. The shark jerked to the left, toward deeper water and the tether around Phil's waist jerked him after it. The resistance brought the shark's head around once more and Phil knew he needed to get loose.

It charged again and Phil readied himself. His instinct was insane but he still did it. Fixing his fingers into a point, Phil stabbed at the emotionless black eye. It wasn't going to work, he _knew_ that it was pure desperation. Yet it did; his fingers sunk into the slime and gore of the socket. He curled his fingers as it jerked away from him, doing the most destruction that he could.

The basket was still wedged in its mouth and he grabbed the cord. With a sharp jerk, he wrenched its head around again but the basket had taken enough abuse and the cord sheared off it. The shark wheeled away from him and headed for deeper water.

Phil had the urge to chase it down but he restrained himself. _I am getting too in touch with my primitive man_. His lungs burned and he kicked back to the surface.

He hauled in a deep breath and turned toward shore. To his surprise, Loki was stroking toward him, swimming as only a god-like being could. "You okay?" the Asgardian yelled when close.

"Yes, unless that shark comes back!" Phil started toward the beach; he'd had enough of the water today.

Loki's green eyes widened before he took a breath and shot under the surface of the water. Phil didn't wait for him. Loki could take care of himself. Despite Phil's head start toward the beach, Loki caught back up to him anyway. "I think it's gone," Loki reported. He moved beside the agent, swimming at his side. "Did you just fight off a shark?"

"Yep." Phil didn't elaborate and Loki didn't ask. There was more respect in the otherworldly being's eyes though as they touched bottom and started walking toward safety.

Natasha met him in the shallows, putting her hand on his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am." He gave her his best reassuring smile before sheepishly admitting, "I lost the seaweed, though."

"Did the shark take it?" Loki's question was delivered flatly.

Tasha reached down and picked up the cord that was still tied to his waist. He sighed as she looked at the cut end and inhaled sharply. Her hazel eyes met his and were wide with concern for him. "Fuck the seaweed."

"Agreed." Loki spoke quietly but when Phil looked at him, the Asgardian had a little smile on his face. Loki glanced down and added, "Your leg is bleeding."

Phil twisted to see the back of his calf. A long scrape the length of his hand marked where the shark had ground its rough skin against him. "Just a little scrape."

"Let's wrap it anyway. Just to be safe." Loki headed toward the shelter to Natasha's undershirt. It was their de facto bandage, even though they'd had to sanitize it several times now.

"We're having oysters." Natasha ran her hands down his arm. "To celebrate your close call."

"We were having oysters anyway," Phil told her wryly. "Lok-gan already caught them."

"Yeah, well, now we're celebrating with them." Then she smiled and everything was okay for that moment. "And Logan is giving me the pearls he finds." She held out her hand to show him the gleaming white spheres and his contentment disappeared.

SHIELD or the Avengers had better find them _soon_.

Logan slipped out of the shelter into the dark morning. He paused to assess the lighting and weather from under the tree, his fingers resting on the hatch marks they'd made daily to track the time. Today he'd add the eighth notch.

The half-moon didn't offer much illumination but the light from the stars was sufficient for his purposes. He judged that the sunrise would come in half an hour or so. He slid his knife out of the belt sheath and turned it. It caught the meager light and blazed like a small star for a moment. Sliding it back into its holder, he began to strip his belt off his pants. He had a mission to accomplish.

Yesterday, a shark had tried to steal away one of his resources.

On some level, he wasn't fooling himself. He knew he had to frame it selfishly. He had to pretend that Phil was a resource, not a companion or someone Logan liked. He couldn't treat Phil as someone Logan owed his life to, on a daily basis.

He needed Phil for his continued survival. That was the only reason he was doing this.

He paused at the tide line to strip off his pants. He folded them and left them in the sand, striding forward in his boxers. The super-soldier put his belt back on, cinching it firmly around his waist so he had speed and his tools. He wanted to exorcise his fear of Phil's fragility in bloody, personal death.

The ocean was cool as he waded out into the water. The shark would be out there somewhere. This was its hunting ground and it wasn't smart enough to find another. It operated on ancient instinct. Logan was operating on similar: _This is mine, and you tried to take it. Now you die._

He threw himself into a wave, arcing sharply and ending up several feet under the water. Even in the dark liquid, Logan could see, another gift of the super-serum. He pivoted under the water, watching all the moving dark shadows carefully. When he didn't see the shark, he kicked back to the surface, refilled his lungs, and headed for deeper water.

Over and over he slipped down into the ocean, seeking his prey. The repeated dives would have worn a human out but Logan was beyond such exhaustion. In calm seas, he could swim for days.

The island was a bump on the horizon when he shot under the water and saw the shark. It swam through the water like the tyrant of the sea and not even the maimed eye could reduce its splendor. Logan felt no awe, only the need to destroy it.

He surfaced long enough to draw another lungful of air before diving. As Logan kicked down, he drew his knife and readied himself.

The shark saw him and swung toward him; he was a large enough meal to interest the beast. As it drew close, Logan saw it was going to bump him, just as bull sharks always did. Grimly, he waited for the head-butt.

When it came, Logan accepted the full blow from the shark in exchange for getting his knife in it. The fish shied away from him and the jerk opened up a long wound in the shark's back. Blood seeped into the water as the predator fled but instead of going out to sea, it turned toward shallower water. Grinning fiercely, Logan followed it.

He had to surface for more air but the blood trail from the shark made its trail clear. Logan followed it as it curved around the edge of the island. The super-soldier caught up to it after an hour. The blood still poured into the water, making a thick cloud around the shark. Other predators were surrounding it, waiting for it to weaken further and die. They pulled back when Logan arrived.

Logan circled to the front of it. The fierce beast only had the strength to jerk away from him once. After that, it hung limply in the water, even when Logan looped his belt around its tail and started for shore.

He wouldn't leave his trophy but dragging it that far was tiring. He didn't have any way to tie it to himself and tow it, so all he could do was swim one-handed. The island was a long distance away when he started for shore. As he got closer, he saw that his fellow refugees were awake. They started when they recognized him, moving to intercept him as he came ashore.

"Where the hell have you been?" Phil's angry query as he waded out of the surf turned into shock when Logan lifted his arm and showed his prize. "You went after the _shark_?"

"It could have come back." Logan hid the tired tremble in his legs, locking his knees. "I hope you guys want shark steak."

Natasha simply looked at him, her expression neutral. He didn't like the feeling that wheels were turning in the back of her skull. It was just as unsettling as the knowing smile that lit up her face a moment later. Moving to his side, she took the knife and the belt. "I'll clean it. I think that Phil will enjoy eating these breakfast steaks in particular."

"Oh, and keep the teeth." Logan grinned at her. "I've always wanted one of those necklaces. It's better when it has the personal touch."

He started for his pants when Phil's voice stopped him. "Logan." He turned and saw true gratitude in his eyes. It wasn't the polite, expected courtesy but real feeling. "Thank you."

Logan felt his cheeks warm. _You're mine, it was what I had to do._ He couldn't say that so he said the only thing he could. "You're welcome, Phil." He turned away before the SHIELD agent saw anything embarrassing - or at least, anything more awkward than he already had.


	23. Chapter 23

Natasha felt oddly safe and content. Sure she was tired; today had been a mad scramble to finish cobbling together their smoker so they could preserve some of the shark meat for a while. They'd also started construction on the signal on top of the wall. They had all agreed that the pale sand and rocks in the nearby water would show brightly against the black metal. It had seemed a good idea when talking about it but after one day, Natasha wondered if they were being too ambitious with their efforts. Getting the needed sand and stone to the top of the wall would be a hell of a task.

_Problem for tomorrow,_ she told herself firmly, refusing to worry about something she couldn't change. She glanced over at Phil, who was reclined against the tree that shaded their living area. Loki was tired too, slumping down on an elbow instead of his usual haughty, alert pose.

Her belly was full of slow cooked shark steak. Phil had wrapped them in wet leaves and buried them in hot coals earlier. The result was the first fish they'd had that wasn't flame-dried. It wasn't surprising that Phil was the best cook. She never bothered to learn and Loki had probably never prepared a meal for himself outside of MREs.

"I miss music." Loki's remark came out of nowhere, right as he tossed a dried twig into the fire.

Natasha blinked at him. "What kind of music do you like?" _What kind of music would HYDRA make a millennia-old god-like being enjoy?_

"Folk music. Celtic rock." Loki's answer made a lot of sense, once he'd said it. That was music that would be familiar to him yet somewhat mainstream. "Like Mumford and Sons, The Killdares, The Tossers. Bands like that."

"I've heard of Mumford and Sons." Phil sat up a little, looking more animated. "I've never heard of the others."

"Mmm. You haven't lived until you've heard Romana Rast playing the fiddle." Shockingly, Loki's smile was as genuine as his praise for a mortal's talent. The surprises weren't over: Loki opened his mouth again and started to _sing_. "_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue, I'll never be your chosen son. I'll be home, safe and tucked away._" With just his voice, the song sounded like a haunting melody about someone trying to tempt the singer into choices until he sang, "_So crawl on your belly til the sun goes down. I'll never wear your broken crown, I took the road, and I fucked it all away!_" He sang with anger and passion, unaware that he was singing about the whole cluster fuck of his attempt at the Asgardian crown. Natasha's hair rose on her arms when he finished with, "_And in this twilight, our choices seal our fate._"

Phil clapped as the last echoes of the song faded. "You can really sing, Logan! Beats my sad attempts at karaoke." He sounded sincere and Natasha gave him a sidelong look. He didn't notice.

_Interesting. _"That means it's your turn to sing." Natasha grinned mischievously at him.

As always, he couldn't say no to her. He was lucky that she only used it against him when he wouldn't really mind or when it was important. Phil sighed and thought a moment; then he adopted a guileless look that made Natasha narrow her eyes. Her suspicion turned to delight when he began: "_On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair._"

Loki laughed, a natural, true sound that brought a smile to her face. She wondered if any other mortal had ever heard that sound as he joined, "_Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air._"

Natasha started to sway to the song; even her limited knowledge of music allowed her to remember the harmony to _Hotel California_. Phil gestured for her to join and she gave him a playful bird in reply. The jerk knew she couldn't sing.

When they ran out of lyrics, the men hummed the guitar solo together before finishing the last lines. As the music faded, the Asgardian turned to her. "So why aren't you entertaining us?" Loki tilted his head as he asked, the fire turning his eyes to a pale gold.

"Because my singing isn't entertaining. Even my rapping is subpar." Natasha laughed at the look on Loki's face. "When you go undercover, sometimes you have to learn odd skills." She pointed at Phil. "It was his fault."

He didn't argue with her, just smiled. "I needed my best agent on that mission. You were it. Beside, I'm sure having to rap is not the most unpleasant thing you've had to do."

"No, it wasn't." Natasha leaned back, settling against a rock. "But you two are very amusing. Please continue."

The two men glanced at one another and she thought they might refuse. Then a slight smile curled Loki's lips and he asked, "Do you know _House of the Rising Sun_?"

In answer, Phil started to hum the intro and Natasha sat back with a contented sigh. Something had shifted between the three of them; something had changed.

Natasha knew what it was after only a moment's thought: the shark had shifted something in Loki and Phil. _I didn't see that coming._ She wondered if it would be a problem and decided she'd worry about when it became one. For now, she was safe, fed, and warm. Life could be worse.

Two weeks of practice had done nothing for his basket weaving skills but Loki had mastered net-making. Phil guessed it was because Loki's fingers were strong enough to force the knots to hold in the stubborn vines.

He glanced over at the Asgardian, watching him repair a net with a mixture of envy and relief. Phil liked being good at things he attempted but he was happy he didn't have to do it. The pads of his fingers were always sore now from making the baskets. The plants they used for their nets were even harsher, rubbing his skin raw after a day's work. Asgardian skin was made of tougher stuff, of course.

This was way better work than the morning's job: the continual efforts to build a signal. That was the reason that his back and calves hurt and he was glad to relax now.

A red head broke the surface of the water and Phil paused to watch Natasha bob in the water. He told himself it was to make sure she was okay as she worked to catch crab but he knew it was because he wanted to watch her. When she was in the water or it was too hot, she would strip down her to bra and underwear. Phil loved and hated those days with equal fervor.

Next to him, Loki said, "You're pretty crazy about her, aren't you?"

Phil fought the blush that tinged his face. He thought about downplaying his attraction but Loki was no fool, even brainwashed, and he didn't want the other man to think there was any chance she would be available. "Yeah. I am, I have for a long time now."

"You didn't because you were both in SHIELD?" Loki's question was innocent but more than that, it was genuinely curious.

"Pretty much." There was a lot unsaid in those two words and some days Phil found it hard to believe that he had her now.

Loki frowned and said, "Natasha told me once that you held a gun to her head and almost killed her the first time you met. What happened?"

Phil's eyebrows rose; out on the waves, the subject of conversation slipped back under the water. _Natasha told him that?_ He considered whether to tell the story and decided that if Tasha had said that much, it wouldn't hurt to tell Loki the details. "I sent in an agent to kill her. Barton made another call but when he brought her to me and reported his decision, I thought I had to complete it."

"Why didn't you?" Loki watched Phil closely.

_Her hazel eyes flinched as he pressed the muzzle to her temple. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape but she'd already lost so much blood. Her slim fingers clutched a rag to her leg, attempting to stop the blood that seeped out with each heartbeat. Clint watched him with agonized eyes, pleading, "Sir, I promised her safe passage! Coulson, I promised!"_

"_It's nothing personal. I'm sorry." Phil stared at her, trying to shut down his mind and emotions. He tried to not see how young she was or how afraid. She started to cry, eyes so wide it appeared painful. Her head dropped and he knew he should do it then, when he wouldn't have to see the light go out of her eyes._

"_Please." She gazed up at him one more time, one bloody hand wrapping around his calf in an electric touch he felt all the way up to his groin. "Let me balance the evil I've done with good. With SHIELD."_

_Phil stared at her for a long moment. He saw honesty and sincerity. "Damnit," he growled, putting his gun back in the shoulder holster. He crouched by her and said to Clint, "Get me the first aid kit and the whiskey in the cabinet." He straightened her leg out and peeled back the bandage._

"_Thank you, thank you." She leaned into him, smelling of gunpowder and blood and something sweet. Her lips brushed his cheek, perilously close to his mouth. "Thank you."_

"_Don't thank me. Fury may still kill us all for this." He smiled at her kindly. "And your first lesson about SHIELD - don't kiss your superior officer."_

"_Too bad," she murmured with a smile far too wicked for a girl her age, and Phil realized he was in over his head._

Loki was still waiting for an answer, so Phil simplified his memory. "I saw something special in her. I saw someone who truly wanted to erase her past and make the world a better place." Natasha surfaced again, floating before diving back down. Eager to change the subject, he asked, "How did you get from the British Army to HYDRA?"

The Asgardian snorted as if he'd said something funny. "Disillusionment. I had worked my ass off to gain rank and do a good job. Then my brother poisoned my commanding officer against me and he kept pushing until eventually he got me out of the service. I fell in with some mercs who treated me like a tool for their own purposes. So when John Garrett offered me a chance to really change things, I took it."

"Do you really think it's a change for the better?" Phil asked, frowning. That sounded an awful lot like Loki's story but he didn't focus on that.

"Project Insight would have stopped the human suffering that plagues the third world." Loki seemed to believe his words; Phil reminded himself that he'd been programmed to have unquestioning loyalty. "Given what you know about SHIELD, what they've done and their failure, do you honestly have faith in them?"

That cut a bit close to home. "I believe in SHIELD's mission. We were fooled by HYDRA but so many of us believe in that mission still."

"What of Natasha's departure from SHIELD? Doesn't that sting?" Loki watched him closely.

"She has to do her own thing." Phil didn't mention that any hurt was blunted by the fact that her leaving left them free to date.

"Don't we all." Loki tilted his head, his eyes curious. "Since we're having this heart to heart, why do you think I killed you?"

Phil stiffened at his question, his hands locking around the ribs of the basket he was making. It was the first hint of a fugue that Logan had seen from him since they'd gotten here. Casually, Logan added, "You don't say 'tried to kill'. You say killed. I remember stabbing you in the back when I was escaping the heliocarrier." That memory wasn't the clearest for him; sometimes he carried a knife and sometimes it was a bladed staff of some kind. Sometimes Thomas was there and sometimes he wasn't. It was the part of his memories that were the most scrambled by Coulson and his team. "Clearly you didn't die. So why do you keep saying it?"

With effort, Phil pulled himself together. "If you want the story, you'll have to hear things you don't want to hear." His blue eyes were full of pain as he met Logan's gaze.

Logan hesitated, sensing some truth in Phil's words. "I'd like to hear your version of events."

Phil drew in a deep breath. "Loki of Asgard had been captured by SHIELD because he had the Tesseract. We were holding him. He had brain-washed Clint Barton to work for him. Hawkeye's team sprung him and I was the guy who went to detention to secure him. He used illusions to stab me in the back. I died."

They had called him Loki until he insisted otherwise. The matter of fact recounting sent shivers down Logan's spine. Something about that rang true to him but he refused to believe it. If Phil were right, then he was wrong - worse than wrong. It would mean everything that he was meant nothing. No man could function with those kind of doubts. He ignored every one of them left in his brain and said, "You look pretty active for a dead man. How long were you dead?"

"Longer than I should have been. That's another story." Phil looked out over the water, shoving the basket away from his legs and rising. Logan glanced out at the ocean to see Natasha was swimming in to shore. "One I _can't_ share with you. Classified, sorry." The smile from the SHIELD agent wasn't completely benign but this was territory Logan understood. It was good to know that SHIELD had something that could resuscitate people. "I'm going to help Natasha."

Logan nodded, continuing to work on the net in his lap. He watched as Phil met Natasha at the crude rack they used to dry the seaweed. Together, the two of them started to separate and hang the plants. The super-soldier put his head down and focused on his task, thinking over Phil's words. Even though he had dismissed them, they stuck with him for the rest of the day.

He waited until they were resting around the campfire before prying further. "Did Loki give you that scar?" He gestured at the white line that ran down the middle of Phil's chest; he knew the man had a twin scar on his back.

"Yes." Phil lowered the dried shark steak he'd been chewing on and asked, "Logan, what are you looking for here? Why all the questions about Lo-Loki?"

Natasha had caught the trip over the name. She hid her concern but not before Logan spotted it. "It's interesting." Logan took a bite of dinner and added, "You seem to think I'm him and it's caused you to have seizures. I'm curious about it."

"Then what you should know is this: Loki is not a nice guy but I'm not glad about what happened to him." Phil stared hard at him. "No one deserves to be brain-washed by John Garrett and forced to serve HYDRA."

"_A powerful being. Someone who had tried to kill lots of people. HYDRA captured him and the decision was made to rewrite him." _

"_Sounds like an unpleasant fellow. It sounds like he was better off rewritten."_

"_I didn't know him, so I can't tell you."_

Logan repressed a shudder and changed gears. "I argued against them doing that to you." Logan wasn't sure why he admitted it to them. He could have been looking for emotional leverage to use later but in truth it just popped out. They should know.

"Yeah, Clint gave that away to me." Natasha smiled slyly.

"Garrett flat out told me that was what he was going to do to us." Phil grimaced and took another bite. "Thanks for trying to stop them."

"Grant Ward was, too." Logan looked at Phil.

Phil snorted derisively. "Good to know he has some lines he won't cross."

"Barton?" Natasha's voice was quiet and she didn't vocalize her question. Logan shook his head, feeling for her. "Okay." She leaned against Phil, her eyes distant and empty.

Logan couldn't begin to guess how she felt. He'd never been betrayed by a friend like that.


	24. Chapter 24

Phil wasn't sure he would ever get used to waking up with another man's erection against his thigh. It wasn't a bad thing; as an agent, you did what was needed for the mission without imposing morals on your actions. Phil had just never shared a _bed _with a man until Loki. While he wasn't sure if the palm leaf and dried grass hollow they slept together in was a bed, it felt like it counted, mostly because of how much it bothered him.

Just thinking of it in those terms made it sound wrong. This was _Loki_, the Invader of New York, exiled Prince of Asgard, brain washed HYDRA agent, and his killer. And Phil was waking up every morning with the man's hard cock pressing against some part of his body.

He could have let Tasha sleep in the middle. He didn't consider himself an alpha male but he had some small part of him that was one. It had compiled a list of every way that Loki was better than him, starting with 'better looking' and ending with 'could beat me to death with his pinkie'. Every time he thought about changing their sleeping arrangements, that alpha male part became convinced that if Tasha woke up with Loki's erection against her, she'd dump Phil for the Asgardian.

It was stupid. Worse, it was the kind of asshattery he used to mock other men for displaying. He tried to tell himself that if Tasha was going to leave him, it wouldn't be because she'd slept next to a god-prince-psycho. It would be her choice. Yet his little alpha male prevailed, beating its proverbial chest, and thus ensuring he was the one experiencing daily Asgardian cock.

When his mind put it that way, it was almost something to be curious about. He really didn't ponder those thoughts long, pushing them away to deal with something else. He'd woken up with the same thoughts for the last week, though, and they were getting harder to ignore.

This morning, the godling was leaning against his side, one strong hand resting on Phil's stomach. The warmth of his touch had seeped through his dirty undershirt, creating a pool of heat. It was incredibly comfortable to lie here with Tasha on one side and the psychotic, brain washed murderer on the other. Sighing, Phil climbed out of the shelter, trying not to wake Tasha or Loki/Logan/Whomever. He was used to having some time alone in the morning as he woke up first. Going down to the surf, he sat down above the high tide mark and waited for the sun to rise. Their cove faced north, which maximized the heat and warmth but the wall blocked the early morning sun.

It seemed to take longer for the sun to rise and Phil realized it was overcast. _Rain?_ In the five weeks they'd been here, they'd found enough water to sustain themselves by milking the morning dew. They had been hoping for a good rain to give them a bit more water.

_God, a month._ The time had flown, consumed by the desperate struggle to survive. _We're going to need clothing soon,_ he thought wryly, looking down at the shorts that were all that remained of his pants. His dress shoes and tie had survived only because he didn't wear them out here. Even his socks had been used as tinder to restart the fire one morning.

"Rain?" Natasha's voice at his elbow made him jump. "Sorry."

"No you're not. You love doing that." He glanced back at the shelter, where he could just see the top of Loki's dark head. "How's Logan?"

"Still sleeping." Natasha frowned as she sat next to him and whispered, "I think he needs more food than us but he won't admit it. It's finally starting to catch up with him."

"Ugh, male pride," Phil sighed, uncomfortable by how close to home that hit. "Let him rest. We shouldn't need him until later."

Natasha nodded. "If it rains, we should take a day to secure the water anyway."

Phil grinned at her. "You just want out of building the signal." He couldn't blame her; the massive X they were constructing on the top of the wall required them to haul up countless stones and jugs of sand to lay out. That was after the effort of finding the damn rocks on the nearby ocean floor. It was grueling work and he wouldn't mind a break from it either.

Natasha merely smiled, neither denying nor confirming his statement. After a moment of silence, she put her hand on top of his. Their fingers laced together as they sat in silence. Phil wondered where his team was looking for him. It wasn't near here, else he knew they would have found him.

"I noticed you haven't had one of your spells around Loki since we got here." Natasha's green eyes were curious when he glanced at her. "Are those done?"

"I've had one or two when you weren't around. I don't have the mental capacity to focus on that here. There's too many other things going wrong or that seem immediately dangerous." Phil rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, sighing. He hesitated, unsure if he should say anything. This was Tasha and he added, "It's hard to think of him as the same Loki. He acts so different now. He's helpful and cooperative. He doesn't call us ants and look down his nose at us. He's a lot more like-" Phil couldn't finish the outrageous thought.

"Like?" Tasha couldn't leave it alone, of course.

"Like Steve." Phil hastily explained before she laughed at him. "Like an ordinary guy given extraordinary power. They really messed him up, Tasha, and I'm not sure it's a _bad_ thing."

"It is, for him." Natasha had gone distant, pulling inside herself like she did when she reviewed her past. "For us, less so. He's had his free will and personality stolen and he'll never recover. It's still terrible."

"Yes." Phil could philosophically agree with that but emotionally he would always be happy HYDRA had fucked him up. He'd even manage to be secretly grateful if Loki permanently lost some of his psychopathic tendencies.

"I'm getting hungry." Natasha's words jarred him out of his thoughts. "I'll check the trap."

"I'll stir up the fire." As Phil walked back to the firepit, he reflected that he was lucky to have Tasha here with him. He carefully exposed the banked coals to the air and added tinder, coaxing the fire to life. If the rain came, they'd need to protect some coals so that they wouldn't have to start the flames from scratch. _I do not want to do that again. Or deal with Loki trying to do that again. _Few things made Loki grumpier than having to manually start a fire.

Natasha came back to the fire with four fish and three lobsters. Most of the time, they only took the food they needed and tossed the rest back for later. "I'm hungry," she said, her gaze sliding toward the shelter. Loki watched them with tired eyes.

Phil studied him a moment, seeing him as a person instead of a godling. The man looked worn out and tired. Natasha was right; even if Loki needed the same amount of food as them, he'd been doing more of the work simply because he _could_. He needed more calories, and Phil felt like a jerk for not noticing.

Do ya want me to cook?" Loki asked sleepily.

"I can. I just need the knife." Phil waited until the other man had passed over the blade before offering, "You can rest some more."

Loki gave him a hard look. Someone had programmed 'Logan' with an overwhelming need to be useful instead of a burden. It showed anytime Natasha or Phil cut him any slack. "I'm fine-"

"No, not really." At Phil's statement, Natasha silently asked, _Are we doing this now?_ with a single look.

When Phil nodded, she said, "Logan, you're beat. Let Phil and I take care of you this morning."

It was probably a sign of how worn he was that he let them get away with 'babying' him. He laid back down, muttering under his breath. Phil went back out to the beach and checked the second trap they'd set up, pulling out some more fish for them. The rest he released into the ocean.

By the time Loki dragged himself out to the fire, six fish and three lobster tails cooked on spits. The godling raised his eyebrows at the feast. "You must be really hungry, Natasha."

"Most of this is for you." Phil met Loki's irritated gaze evenly. "No, don't argue. We are all we have out here."

"We're enemies, Coulson." It was the first time Loki had reverted to his last name since he'd given him permission to call him Phil. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"No, I haven't. I know we need each other now. I know we've needed each other for weeks now." He stared at Loki. "We'll have time to fight later." The SHIELD agent took a cooked fish off the fire and handed it to the Asgardian. "You can enjoy this, or I can feed it to you."

"You think you can?" Loki asked as his eyes narrowed.

"I think when you're weak enough, yeah, I can." Phil waved it gently. "Wanna get that weak?"

Reluctantly, Loki took the food and started to carefully eat it. "So is this going to become a thing among us?" he asked sharply.

"Only if necessary." Phil pointed up toward the top of the wall. "We need to restructure our expectations about our work schedule."

Loki sighed but said nothing, his fingers scratching at the beard on his face. Phil had been avoiding touching his own face for the same reason. "How so?" Loki asked after a moment.

"We should only spend three or so hours working on that. Doing that and all the things we need to survive is too much." Phil glanced between them. "We can't keep up that pace. We're only human - and As- super-human." He nodded at Loki. "Agreed?"

"Do I have a choice to disagree?" Loki asked acerbically.

"Yes. You have to tell us, though." Natasha remained unruffled.

"I don't want to miss a chance at rescue because we're lazy." Loki took another fish and dug in, at least conceding to eat more.

"Agreed. But the X is already pretty big and visible." Natasha took a bite of lobster tail, too hungry to care that it needed butter. "We can slow down a little without much risk of being missed."

Loki didn't look happy but he slowly nodded in agreement. They ate in silence, saving the cooking spits for later and tossing the fine bones in the fire. Standing, Loki brushed the ever-present sand off his pants. Phil was a little jealous that he and Natasha had been shipwrecked with sturdier clothing. "I'm going to run one load up the stairs before it rains."

Natasha sighed at his stubbornness but didn't fight with him. "I'll help," Phil said, determined that if Loki was going to break himself working he'd have help. The two men each filled a rough net made from seaweed and slung it over one shoulder. Phil had three good sized rocks in his net, while Loki had insisted on seven, all larger than Phil's. It was unsettlingly close to what Steve would do.

Phil wanted to curse the infuriating man out after the sixth landing. That wouldn't be fair, as Loki hadn't even asked him along. Phil had been an idiot and volunteered. Now he was stuck climbing these steps with rocks on his back when he could have been flirting with his girlfriend. The fiber cord holding the net closed cut into his shoulder, while one of the rocks jabbed him in the kidney. Grunting, he reached back to adjust it, just as Loki met him coming back down. Phil glowered at him but kept going.

As always, he stopped at the top to take in the view. It never changed, just endless ocean, but Phil enjoyed these moments nonetheless. A sudden gust of cold wind at his back turned him around to see the dark, almost black, clouds in the sky. He watched for a moment to see if it was coming closer; once he was sure it was, he hurried to place his rocks. With a final look, he headed down the stairs.

Loki was bringing up another load. Phil rolled his eyes at the sight and stopped him. "Leave it here. There's a bad storm coming, fast."

"At least we'll have water." Loki looked slightly cheered by those words and tied his net to the railing. Phil helped him; neither wanted to carry them down and lose any progress. The two men raced down the stairs, chased by the dropping temperatures as the storm came at them.

"Tasha! Storm!" Phil yelled the warning before they were close. By the time he and Loki had arrived, she had already moved some coals into the battered paint can they'd found along the beach. It was too dirty to use for holding water but with a base of sand it was perfect for the coals.

Phil and Loki headed for the water collectors. There were only three but they'd cleaned them meticulously in preparation for this day. They were lucky to have rain, even if the storm bearing on them looked awful. They set them up and stabilized them with rocks on the outside to keep them from blowing away.

Nastasha ducked into the shelter first with the coals, setting them back where the leaves were layered thickest. The people could get wet but their fire needed to stay dry. She came out to help them but Phil knew she wanted to be outside when the rain fell.

The first drops hammered his skin as he took one last look around to see if they had missed anything. The last container was secure and he tipped his head back, mouth open to catch the water. Laughing, Natasha joined him, and after a moment, so did Loki.

They caught rain until their bellies were full of water, enjoying the pure liberty of drinking their fill. The rain soaked them in minutes, even the heavy, thick pants Loki wore. Tasha laughed and leaned against Phil, her skin slick under his hands. He didn't do anything else but enjoy the thrill of her touch. It was pleasant until he got cold. "Inside?" he asked, looking at his two companions.

Natasha ducked in first, slipping past Loki and sitting at the far end. Waving for the godling to follow her, Phil found himself on the outer edge of their row. Loki was in the middle; he stiffened when Natasha leaned into him. Phil found himself getting tense as his alpha male - no, _his_ jealousy rose. She leaned forward enough to make eye contact with the annoyed SHIELD agent. "Lean in. Get warm."

_She's seducing me into a threesome._ Phil immediately rejected the idea. He knew that Tasha wouldn't object to two men but Loki as the other man was never something she'd contemplate. Shaking off his ridiculous thoughts, he drew up his knees and put his arms around them to hold in his body's warmth. He ignored the heat that came from Loki's shoulder just inches to his right.

Lightning flashed, searing the darkness with white. The boom of thunder followed almost within five seconds. Each flash and roar made Loki flinch but other than that, the godling held himself still. The strikes and the answering thunder came closer and closer, until one strike lit the sky enough to read fine print and the boom could be felt in the air. "That was close," Phil muttered, glancing back toward Natasha.

Her hazel eyes were the last thing he saw as he slipped into blackness.


	25. Chapter 25

Logan's mind was on fire. Part of it was insisting that this was just lightning and thunder but a deeper, more instinctive part was sure it heralded the arrival of his abusive brother, Thomas. He was a grown man but the fear had been seared into his psyche.

Natasha was helping; her lithe body against his was doing wonders to distract him. The old longings he'd felt for her on the Bus and when they'd first arrived surged back to the forefront. He almost hungered for her touch, as if he'd been starved of human contact and she could fill that void.

Cold air gusted sharply into the little shelter as Phil got up and left. "Phil?" Natasha called but the man didn't stop or acknowledge her call.

"Something's wrong." Natasha pushed past him, leaving him in the makeshift structure. _Thomas will find you alone in here. _That was worse than the fear of the thunder and he quickly scrambled after her.

Phil walked steadily along the inner curve of the wall, ignoring the wind and rain. Logan spotted a soft purple glow ahead. He shielded his eyes against the rain and realized that the strange entrance on the wall was now emitting light.

Alarmed, he hurried to Natasha's side. "He's headed for the door and it's glowing."

Fear came and left Natasha's face. She dashed forward into a quick run, turning so that she could see Phil's face. The agent didn't register her arrival, his blue eyes locked on an unknown target. "Phil? Phil!"

"He's not there anymore." Logan moved to the other side of the man and caught her eyes. "Should I stop him?"

The Avenger thought for a second. "No. We stay with him. But grab him if he starts to do something dangerous."

"You grab him - I'll fend off whatever comes at us." Logan met her gaze when she shot him a glare. "I'm stronger, faster, tougher. You can take Phil but we don't know what's going to happen."

"Obviously, that's what you should do if there's actually something else." Her irritation morphed into dark amusement. "I was speaking to us as a group. It's cute that you thought I was giving you orders, though."

Logan ignored the teasing in her voice. He'd had enough of that from Ricochet. Tensely, he kept pace with the mind controlled Phil, shadowing him as he walked straight to the door. The purple light came from symbols hovering over the door. Logan frowned as he tried to understand the complex hatchwork of lines and circles, only to fail. It was more like art to him than any understandable language.

Phil understood it. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and touched the purple latticework at precise locations. When he stopped, the entire image flared once and disappeared. A second later, the door slid upward into the wall.

"Oh my God." Natasha gasped in shock only to lunge forward and grab Phil when he would have entered.

Logan joined her, stopping the other man simply by putting his arms around him and halting his movement. At the same time, he peered over Phil's shoulder to see a vast open space that was poorly lit. The lighting failed as he watched and soon the interior was cloaked in pitch black shadows.

Phil's hands curled up to grasp Logan's wrist. "Guys? What happened?" Phil sounded remarkably calm for a man who no doubt had no idea who he'd gotten where he was, particularly when held in another man's arms. Logan could feel the tremble in the agent's hands as he pulled on Logan's wrists to free himself.

"You went into a fugue state and opened the door while in it." Natasha tilted her head. "I think that we just had a lightning strike which seemed to have powered whatever this is briefly."

"Now the energy is depleted." Logan continued her thought, testing it aloud and finding it fit. He cautiously released Phil from his hold though he kept an arm around the agent's shoulders to support him.

"Something in here was controlling me?" Phil's voice shook a little.

Logan paused, not sure what to say. Natasha saved him from the trouble: "Yes, it appeared to. The good news is that we can now explore the inside of this tomorrow."

"Yeah." Phil didn't sound any less scared. "Good news."

"C'mon, let's get back to the shelter." Natasha had her arms around him and she used that hug to draw him back to their simple sanctuary. Logan followed, ducking in after the other two. Natasha leaned against Phil and the SHIELD agent wrapped his arms around her in return. With his better vision, Logan could see the fear on Phil's face.

"Here." Logan put his arm around Phil's shoulders and pulled him closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he did that, only that he knew what it was like to be jerked around by forces greater than yourself: his big brother and SHIELD, to name two. It must be worse if your tormenter had no name or face.

Phil sat stiffly for a second before leaning Logan. He shuddered in the safety of their embraces but Logan saw the fear fade.

_You're getting attached to them, O'Dell._ The harsh self-critique came to him in his brother's voice.

Logan shifted so that Phil lay more comfortably against him. _I know._

_You going to pussy out and let them go in the end?_

Resting his cheek on Phil's head, he stared into the storm. In his heart, he knew that he wanted both of them. His own harsh words earlier today were to keep up appearances but he knew the truth. He had never felt so close to two people before. It was their situation; it had created forced bonds. If offered a choice, he'd take the one that kept him with them - not as a prisoner of SHIELD but as their peer and companion.

_Impossible_. His thoughts were tinged with sorrow. _When you leave the island, this relationship - such as it is - dies. It can only survive here._

His eyes started to hurt in the unmistakable prelude to tears. Logan relaxed against the man he was comforting and banished his morose thoughts. Later. He'd deal with them at another time, when he was alone.

That thought bottomed out his stomach and left him feeling sick at heart - and helpless to change anything.

Natasha stared out into the night, unable to sleep. The storm had passed just after dark but they had six more gallons of drinking water. Her anxiety was due to Phil's mysterious actions during the storm.

They'd scared him and Loki, too. The Asgardian had hidden it well enough that Phil hadn't noticed but she could read him now. Natasha had listened to the two men toss and turn for a long time before they had fallen into troubled sleep. She hadn't been able to relax enough to rest.

Phil was on his side, his head pressed against her shoulder. When she'd put her arms around him, she'd found that Loki had curled around him in a protective huddle. Her hands played over Phil's bare shoulder. His undershirt had finally fallen apart two days ago, leaving him with the ragged remains of his dress pants. He stirred slightly and she stopped before she woke him.

Bored and wound too tight to sleep, she pondered what to do. Turning, she glanced out at the beach. If she couldn't sleep, maybe she could weave a basket or something. She'd gotten better at it, though Phil was still the best of the three of them. Loki was the one who'd surprised her by figuring out how to weave a mat together. His first one had been small but he was trying to make hammocks-

The two forms walking near the water's edge froze Natasha's thoughts. She held her breath, trying to determine if they were SHIELD or HYDRA. They were tall and male with heavy hoods hiding their faces. A second later she realized that she didn't recognize the armor. It wasn't foreign, it was actually alien. No earth armor had shoulder guards like that, or chest pieces - or at least they hadn't had them for centuries.

_The door._ She'd not worried about it because she'd assumed that if there were intelligent inhabitants inside the wall, they would have come out to investigate them long ago. Now she wondered if they had even been aware of them at all.

Carefully, she reached out and put her fingers across Loki's lips. Before she could shake him by the shoulder, he grabbed her hand and twisted it sharply away from his face. Natasha barely choked back a cry of pain as her wrist was forced the wrong way. Loki released her hand almost immediately but a steady ache from the joint warned her that he'd hurt her.

The godling peered at her and Natasha angrily put a finger across her own lips. Then she pointed out the opening of the shelter toward the strangers.

Loki moved carefully, shifted in near silence so that he lay on his belly. She saw him peer out into the darkness and then push up on his fingers and toes. Before she could grab his arm, he'd scuttled out of the shelter.

Natasha rolled her eyes. _Damn alpha male Asgardians!_ Pressing her uninjured hand over Phil's mouth, she nudged his legs with her knee. He came awake with a gasp and a jerk, and Natasha wondered if he'd been having a bad dream. She pointed out the strangers, who were now peering into the shadows near the wall. Clearly, they were looking for whomever had opened the door.

After the shark, they'd made several spears and hidden them around the camp. Three of them were concealed in the structure of the shelter and Natasha found the haft of one of them by feel. Phil echoed her movements as he armed himself and followed her out of the shelter.

Loki found the invaders first. The moment they came close enough to the shadows for him to strike, he dashed over twelve feet of sand and buried his knife in one of their sides before they could react. The alien howled in pain as the Asgardian's blade sank to the hilt.

The other alien spun and raised a strange rifle toward Loki. Phil burst from his hiding place with a shout and charged the uninjured one. Natasha hung back, circling around to flank and remove the wounded one completely.

Phil's loud attack distracted the alien from Loki, who sidestepped and put his hurt opponent between himself and the other alien. Phil's charge was stopped when the uninjured fighter swept his rifle around and knocked his spear away. Phil hesitated only a second before closing to grab the rifle on top of the weapon and punch at the alien's jaw.

The one fighting Loki had his back to her as Natasha slipped up behind him. She gripped her spear tighter, set her feet, and thrust her weapon into the unarmored man's neck. His skin proved effective in turning aside the sharpened stick. What should have been a killing blow left a scratch on the man's flesh. He yelped and turned.

"Help Phil!" Natasha shouted to Loki as he pulled his blade free in a spray of blood. The Asgardian gave her an annoyed look that she couldn't interpret but amazingly did as she asked. He spun away gracefully to attack the one trying to beat up Phil.

Her opponent didn't have full use of his arm on his injured side; Loki's attack had been high and must have severed vital muscles. He turned toward Loki as the Asgardian moved away and Natasha leapt on his back, hooking the shaft of her spear against his throat. As he clawed as her arms, she leaned back, using her weight to throttle him.

He collapsed but she was expecting that and twisted with the fall. He found himself in a chokehold as the Avenger wrapped his good arm and torso up with her arms and legs. Natasha gritted her teeth as the stronger alien grabbed her hurt wrist and started to pry her arm away from his pinned arm.

In answer, Natasha dug her fingers into his good wrist, pinching hard on a pressure point - at least one in humans. There was some correlation as he moaned softly and let go of her wrist, attempting to break the hold she had on his other arm.

"Move your arms." Loki's voice in her ear made her jump but Natasha compiled after she saw Phil standing a few feet away, unharmed. She let go of the alien as Loki leaned in and slit its throat.

"So much for questioning them." Phil glanced at the other alien who was pinned to the sand by a wooden spear through the chest.

Natasha worked on catching her breath. "The door."

"I agree." Loki sounded furious. "Search them."

The corpses turned up a treasure trove of items. Each dead soldier had a globe that emitted light, batons that emitted a shock of purple energy at their tip, metal restraints, and various sharp blades. Though the tech was foreign, Phil was able to figure out how each one worked. Even better, the SHIELD agent was the same size as one of the fighters. "At least I get some new pants out of this," he said, joking to hide his uneasiness at wearing a dead man's clothing

"If it makes you feel better," Natasha told him as he snapped the front shut, "you look good in them." She smiled despite her own discomfort. The pants did look good on him, highlighting the additional leanness and toning forced on him by their situation. Natasha selected a couple of the long blades and the other rifle for herself.

"These aliens look human. They're stronger, faster, and better." Loki hadn't joined in the joking. Instead he crouched next to the corpses, nervously fingering the hilt of his knife. "But they look completely human."

Phil hesitated before he picked up the pieces of armor he'd looted with the pants. "We don't know how many more are in the wall."

"But we should find out." Natasha moved to help Phil, noting Loki's tension. Loki's green eyes shifted to them, watching Phil armor himself with something akin to anger in his eyes.

"Yes. Since I'm armored, I'll lead." Phil picked up the rifle and checked it over, handling it with strange familiarity. Natasha felt uneasy as she watched him.

As he walked forward, Loki caught Natasha's arm. "Phil's one of them," he hissed in her ear.

Natasha stared at him as his anxiety redoubled her own. "What?"

"He's a sleeper agent for these things. We have to be ready for them to trigger him." Loki stepped away, hurrying to catch up to Phil.

Natasha wanted to deny it but the facts stared her in the face. She knew it was too possible. She wasn't going to wait for him to be triggered and she jogged after him. "Phil. Phil, wait!"

Loki stared at her as Phil turned. "What?" the SHIELD agent asked and Natasha steeled herself.

"I love you." Her statement reddened his face as he shot a glance at Loki. "I _trust_ you. We need you to-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath. "We need you to let us secure you in the shelter and do this alone."

The shock and hurt on his face pierced her to the heart. She kept her eyes on his as Loki said, "Phil, you know how to use their equipment. You figured out the flashlights, rifles, and energy batons. You're stronger than a human. You're healing faster. And you opened the door while controlled by someone or something else."

Natasha stared at Loki; she hadn't noticed the strength - until she thought about it. She was used to the men she fought with being much stronger than her but fighting with Steve had distorted her perceptions. Phil had always healed quickly and she'd just thought that was normal for him. Maybe it was normal but he wasn't what she'd thought he was.

Phil's shoulders slumped. "Right. You guys are right."

Natasha touched his shoulder. "Phil-"

"I'm okay with it." He managed a wan smile. "I can see it. You're right." He cleared his throat roughly and pulled one of the restraints off his belts. "One of these around my wrists and one connecting me to one of the trees should do it."

His attempt to be brave and stoic hurt. Natasha nodded grimly as her gut twisted painfully. "Let's do it, then."

Phil didn't struggle or even flinch as they secured him to the tree. He wiggled around until he was leaning against another tree. He attempted to be lighthearted as Loki tested the bonds to be sure they would hold. "I'm going to try to sleep. Have fun, guys." He grew somber and added, "Be careful. Both of you."

Natasha knelt and kissed him. It was the first really long, lingering kiss they'd shared since agreeing to dial it back. The spark - the one that she had felt the night she'd tugged open his tie in Budapest, the one that she'd felt the night she'd cooked for him - flared bright and hot, washing through her fatigue and sorrow.

Phil was grinning when she lifted her head. "You and I need to talk about how a restrained man gets you hot."

Natasha laughed. "Yeah, we will - before the cuffs come off."

He chuckled softly. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Worse ways to go," she murmured as she stood up.

Loki slipped past her and knelt next to Phil. He looped his arm around the other man's shoulders and whispered in his ear. Phil leaned his head against Loki's and nodded. Then the Asgardian rose to his feet, cold fury in his eyes. "Let's get this over with."


End file.
